In The Desert
by Running Lynx
Summary: Desert AU. Gray is the crown prince of an independent desert city-state called Fairy Tail. The prince's life is not easy, but it gets more complicated when his father gifts him the captured leader of the powerful Dragon Tribe as a slave. Gratsu.
1. Tribute Day

**Hello everyone! This is my first Fairy Tail story. Thank you Peanut61654 for your support! Without you, this story would have never been written. This is a desert AU. I have taken some liberties with people's magic to suit the setting, particularly Juvia's and Lucy's. Also, Gray hasn't properly learned Tribal and so some Tribal words don't make sense to him. Instead of putting the unknown words in asterisks or random letters, I put them in Russian, just because I could xD You don't need to know what those words mean; anything vital will be explained in the story.**

**Hope you enjoy, and please review and favourite!**

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**Chapter 1**

_Why is the day not over yet?_ Gray thought, suppressing a groan. A solid gold sundial above the assembled nobles' heads read 7.40 in the evening. _Only twenty more minutes of this torture and it will be over for the year…_

Gray watched the Lamia Scale tribe representatives leave the throne room. They were four men strong when they had first entered the room. They left the chamber with only three.

Gray hated it.

He hated how his king's eyes shone with mirth as he watched the small delegation leave, two of the three people sobbing quietly and wiping tears with the back of their hands. The third person had his mouth clenched so hard that it looked like his teeth might shatter.

"How many tribes are left?" asked Alastair Fullbuster, king of the independent desert city-state of Fairy Tail, and Gray's father. The herald gulped and checked his scroll.

"Two more tribes, Your Majesty."

The king's features tightened, and every civilian in the room grew tense. Gray did not envy whoever was visiting the king at the end of the day. Whoever was scheduled for last ran the greatest risk of displeasing the king. The king's manner was curt at the end of the day, his temper short, and his patience thin. He may even end up not letting his guests finish, instead making a snap decision and possibly punishing them for wasting his time. Gray had heard stories of visitors bribing each other to trade places so that they wouldn't be the last.

"Let the first one in, and be quick about it," the king growled.

_Only two more tribes_, Gray chanted in his head, tapping his arm on the edge of his father's throne. Oh, how he longed for the dreaded day to be over. The throne wasn't a chair as some city-states preferred, but a large rectangular bed on a raised dais, complete with a see-through canopy and a magnitude of ornate blue cushions. Usually a concubine accompanied the king on the throne-bed, fanning him from the desert heat and pouring him wine when his glass turned empty. The king would pluck exotic fruit from the concubine's hand, while his visitors watched with envious eyes from below.

Today there was no concubine, no fruit, and what seemed like no end at all. Gray leaned on the very edge of the throne, arms crossed, and pretended that his father was not there. There was nowhere else he could sit, as the room was bereft of furniture. The majority of the court stood, with only a few frail members bringing their own cushions, or sitting directly on the rugs that covered the floor. The only other things in the room, besides the royal guard that could have passed for statues, were numerous wall and pillar decorations, cast in royal blue and gold, featuring Gray's ancestors in heroic poses. Gray shook his head in distaste. He would have preferred to stand or sit on the floor like everyone else, but his royal status prohibited it.

The herald announced Red Hare tribe, and a group of five people entered the stuffy throne room. They wore tattered, faded clothes that were too big to fit them.

_This isn't good._ Gray frowned.

He fidgeted as they laid out ten jackal pelts and eight baskets of produce at the throne's dais. There was no gold, no fabrics and no spices. The oldest man, probably the leader, placed a blue velvet pouch on the pelts. Gray craned his neck to see inside, ignoring how undignified he might look. He glimpsed only a few gold coins inside, twenty at most. The blood drained from Gray's face.

"Do you think this is a game?" The king yelled.

The five people went on their knees, heads bowed. Sweat ran down their faces. The woman furthest on the left trembled.

"No, Your Majesty," the oldest of the group said in broken Common. The man looked about thirty years old, with deep scars running along his forehead and neck. "We had severe drought, shortage of food and—"

"You don't seem to understand what the tribute means." The king stood. "I protect your tribe, your women and your children, from the savagery of south, from the cruelty of the other city-states, and from tribal in-fighting. I give you special price on water, provide you with goods no other place will, and fight for your freedom in wartime!" Spit flew from the corners of his mouth. "In return, you show your appreciation of the great effort I spend looking after your tribe by bringing me tribute worthy of my cause. Do you think pelts and commoner food are worthy of my attention? Do you think they justify my efforts to keep you safe? Do you?"

"We have shortages—"

The king waved him off. "I don't want excuses. I want results. Where is your yearly tribute?"

Gray watched the atmosphere of the group shatter. The leader clenched his teeth, the others looked sullen and quiet. The two women looked like they were about to cry.

"If one of you does not come forward, I will chose one myself!"

A girl furthest on the left stood up. Her tattered dress reached to her skinny knees, with a low neckline in the city's style. She had pink hair and black eyes, typical of the tribal population. She wasn't too tall, had average features, and wasn't extraordinary gorgeous or hideously ugly. There wasn't anything notable about her, except for her shaking hands and the tears flowing down her olive coloured cheeks. She didn't know it, but her plainness was an advantage.

Gray watched the king's face contort with distaste. "Even your yearly tribute is mediocre. Come here, girl."

The king waved his hand, beckoning the girl to come forward. She flinched, but hesitantly shuffled over. High Priest Freed walked over from his spot near the wall, a slave collar already in his hand. He looped the silvery metal around the girl's neck with a resounding click. A loud sob broke from the girl and she collapsed weeping at the king's feet.

Gray couldn't help but notice the despair written on the remaining Red Hares' faces. The four of them huddled together, their howls joining the girl's cries.

Freed made a new cut on the king's palm. He swooped some of the king's blood, crouched down to the girl's level and drew several runes on her collar.

She screamed, her body convulsing on the stone floor.

Without warning, the group's leader launched toward the king, screaming with rage. The nobles gasped, some yelling in alarm. Gray didn't have time to move before the man was upon the dais, his claws extended and ready to shred. The prince had a split second cover his head in defense.

An ice wall suddenly shot up from the floor, followed by a sickening crunch. The man howled in pain.

Fairy Tail knights surrounded the man in an instant, shoving metal collars onto his neck and binding his wrists with rope. It was over as abruptly as it started.

Gray drew a deep, shuddering breath. The king tsk-ed.

"Please spare him," the remaining woman in the group cried.

The plea was punctuated by the writhing girl's scream. Freed held her down and continued his work. The pain wouldn't stop until the spell was complete.

Gray looked at his father, dreading the emotion he would find on the king's face.

The king's eyes shone with fury.

"Lyon, that's enough," the king said.

Lyon stood half-crouched in front of the king, his arms still in the Ice Make position. Lyon was the captain of the guard, the king's personal protector while in the palace, and Gray's half-brother. Gray and Lyon had the same father but different mothers. Gray's mother was the queen, while Lyon's was a slave concubine. Lyon gave the smallest perceptible nod, face unreadable, and the ice wall vanished.

"Arrest all of them."

The three bowed heads shot up, looking at the king in shock.

Lyon moved from his father's side, long with six other knights. Gray covered his eyes with his hand. That was another reason why he hated today. He heard shouts, curses, and sound of blows as the seven knights overwhelmed the remaining three tribesmen. Unarmed, the wildlings didn't stand a chance against Lyon and the king's guard. Gray chanced a look at the king, but he wished he hadn't.

The bastard was smiling, amusement plain on his face.

"You know what we do to rebels," the king sat on the throne and took a long drink of water. "Have them whipped at noon tomorrow. Twenty lashes each. Thirty for the leader." The girl stopped writhing now, and lay placid on the floor. "The pain should teach you about what makes a worthy tribute to your king and lord protector." The king flicked his wrist. "Get them out of my sight."

Red Hare resisted being dragged down to the door.

"One day we'll take back our sons and daughters you stole! You'll pay for ever taking them away from us! Someone, somewhere, will gut you like the vicious monster you are!" The woman cried as the knights dragged her away.

"Heh," the king chuckled. "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha." His laughter resonated in the suddenly hollow feeling room. "It amuses me how they all say that. They are like fleas, tiny and irritating. Isn't that right Gray?"

His father's eyes focused on him, and it took Gray all of his self-restraint to remain silent and keep his hands in his lap instead of striking the smile off his father's face. It hurt, physically hurt to see innocent people be subjected to such cruelties. He hated attending these hearings, but at the same time he had to know what went on. He wished he could do something to change the way the city was run, something to alleviate the tribal people's suffering, but his hands were tied in much the same way as everyone else's. Lucy told him that the tribes thought him an extension of his father, and that the hate for the royal family ran through their blood. Gray liked to believe that they were wrong, that he was nothing like his father, but... Gray clutched his empty hands.

There was one thing he could do. He could attend these meetings and oversee that the least possible harm comes to the new tributes. Tribute was a fancy word to mask the real position of the tribespeople who joined the palace on this day.

Slaves.

Soon Red Hare's shouts faded and the room returned to relative silence. The girl's soft sobs drew everyone's attention.

The king's mouth parted in disgust. "Send her to the kitchens."

A knot in Gray's heart loosened. The man in charge of the household led the girl away. While Gray desperately wished he could call the housemaster back and return the girl to her family, but being assigned to the kitchens was a good result. There were far worse places that she could have been placed.

Not that Gray could have changed much if his father had set his mind on sending her someplace gruesome. He was as much as a slave of the city as any of them were.

There were five common places that his father sent new slaves to.

The first and, in Gray's opinion, the best outcome was if a slave was assigned to the palace household. This included the kitchens, the kennels, the messengers, the torch-bearers, making beds, waiting on the visitors and the myriad of other commoner tasks around the palace. While it certainly wasn't home, slaves in the palace had the best quality of life and had the lowest mortality rate compared to the other options.

The rest of the possibilities were not as peaceful. A slave could be sent to fight in the arena for the amusement of the masses. The only two options in arena were to win the championship or to be slain in battle. Usually, only the slaves that have known histories of war were sent there. As strange as it sounded, his father didn't seem to be fond of sending slaves to their deaths if he was unlikely get at least three battles out of them. Most of the arena slaves were tribesmen his father captured as war trophies.

Another direction the slaves were commonly assigned was to work at the watermill. The watermill was the reason why Fairy Tail managed to exist in the Fiore desert, and why it was so profitable. With the natural rain occurring only once a year, the city needed a constant water supply to stay alive. All city-states were self-sufficient and had their own water supplies, but Fairy Tail was the only city with enough overcapacity to sell water to others.

The watermill was a giant well that went deep into the earth. The slaves pushed an oversized wheel around the clock, which pumped the water to the surface. The work at the water mill was harsh on the body and the mind, and most people broke within the month. Being assigned to the water mill was like being sentenced to death. It was like the arena, only less glamorous. Even criminals feared such punishment.

Almost as bad as the water mill, in Gray's view, was the fourth option - being taken to the king's pleasure quarters. This was a potential danger to all pretty young men and women, particularly with blue hair. Some might think that being a king's concubine wasn't so bad off; they were given the finest clothes and living arrangements, but Gray knew different.

Gray's gaze momentarily rested on Lyon, who returned back to his position at the king's side.

And the last path that a slave may end up going, which was the exception rather than the norm, was to be given away to whoever held the king's favour at the time. Gray had seen slaves being given away to generals, wealthy merchants, nobility and to other cites' kings as gifts.

Gray attended the meetings for this reason. He refused taking assigned household slaves as his personal servants, performing all dressing and fetching himself. He kept the spot open to save one of the unlucky girls or boys from ending up in the king's pleasure quarters and hence sparing them from years of suffering. This was the one thing he could do: stake a claim on a slave and pray that his father felt generous.

This year's tributes were disappointing. Gray could see displeasure on the King's deeply lined face. All the young men and women presented his year were plain or average at best, and none had blue hair that the king particularly enjoyed. The majority were too weak to be assigned to the arena or the watermill, and became household slaves. Only two out of twelve new slaves were assigned to the watermill to face almost certain death.

The thought of the two dead men walking made Gray's heart clench. He could have saved one of them by staking a claim…

But he didn't.

Gray's legs started to cramp from being propped up for so long. He mumbled a curse, but refused to sit down on the same throne as that man. _Just one more tribe and it's over…_

"Bring in the last tribe!" The king yelled. "They better not bring ridiculous gifts like Red Hare, or god help them they will be leaving here a few limbs short!"

The slaves had cleared away Red Hare's tribute, so the mosaic floor became visible once more. The mosaic showed Gray's long-forgotten ancestor spearing a blue dragon through the chest. Why they had something like that in the throne room was beyond him.

"The last tribe to present tribute to King Alastair of Fairy Tail is the Fleetfoot tribe. Come forward and present tribute to your king."

Gray steeled himself for one more round of worry, life-changing decisions and guilt. Watching his father condemn innocent people was something he couldn't get used to enduring.

Gray looked at the door, pitying whoever was so unlucky as to present last. The king tapped his foot impatiently, his mouth a hard line.

A few seconds passed and nothing happened.

Hushed whispers filled the air. Tribe desertion, cowardice and death wishes flitted across the tongues of assembled nobles.

More seconds passed.

Gray felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Nothing.

Even the nobility's whispers dwindled into silence.

"Find them and bring them to me!" the king yelled, rising to his feet.

"That won't be necessary, Your Majesty," a sickeningly sweet-sounding voice said.

Two dark-haired men entered the room, their faces painted a garish white colour.

Gray's eyebrows shot up and he stood straight to see better. Two things struck him at once. First, he has never seen the two dark haired men before in his life. They were not from the Fleefoot tribe. Second, the men's black irises covered the entirety of their eyes, in sharp contrast to the white make-up. Gray felt a strange desire to get the hell away, which he squashed down with the discipline of nine years' worth of court poker face.

Fairy Tail knights surrounded the two men, spears poised to strike at the slightest sign of rebellion. Lyon had his spear poised at the taller man's neck, who appeared to be the tribe leader.

"You have guts to come this far, savages," the king said.

Gray's eyes widened. Everyone in Fiore heard stories of the savages who were exiled to the wastes south of Fairy Tail, stories of unbelievable brutality and of eating fellow men to survive.

Fairy Tail marked the southern-most border of the inhabitable land in the Fiore desert. Further than that, the desert became too hot to sustain life. Hardly any vegetation grew there, and whatever animals managed to survive were skinny to the brink of death.

No savage has ever set foot into Royal Palace. They were killed by the king's army or the surrounding tribes long before they reached Fairy Tail.

These savages didn't look like the savages Gray has seen. The men he remembered were filthy, malnourished and wild, with a deranged look in their eyes. These men were groomed, well fed and wore typical clothes of the citizens of Fairy Tail - long vests buttoned up front, and long loose pants gathered at the ankles. Both were made of white linen with purple trim - the next most expensive trim after royal blue. If it wasn't for the distasteful white paint covering the pair's faces, he would have passed them for minor nobles. As it was, they looked like clowns dressed in fancy clothes.

"We do not seek violence this day," the taller man said in surprisingly good common. It wasn't perfect, but it was a big difference compared to an average tribe, much less from savages. Gray cringed at the childishly high pitched voice.

"Then what do you seek? There is no place for you in Fairy Tail." The king replied. Gray detected notes of disgust and disdain in his voice, even though his face showed no emotion.

"Our name is Phantom Lord and we seek peace. Our greatest wish and hope is to move from the wastes to somewhere more hospitable, someplace where children wouldn't die as soon as they are born. Someplace where the land itself does not reek of death. We have come on good faith, as you can see, unarmed." The men lifted their empty hands. "We bring tributes to the king who we hope will one day become our king and lord protector."

A smirk appeared on the king's face, while contempt shone through his cold blue eyes. "Show me your tribute and I may consider letting you live."

The Phantom Lord didn't seem fazed. "We heard that Fairy Tail has long standing trouble with the Dragon Tribe scaring trading caravans by their tendency to camp near the trading routes. For reasons we do not know, but possibly because of the tribe's involvement in the war one hundred years ago, Your Majesty has not pursued the tribe. We know that Your Majesty offers no protection to the tribe, and the tribe is exempted from paying tributes. We believe this posed a big problem to the trade of our future king, and we decided to help him with the problem. We—"

"Get on with it," the king snarled.

The man's smile grew larger. "Phantom lord is proud to present to you, Salamander, leader of the Dragon tribe." He did a shallow bow, to the extent that the poised spears allowed.

Commotion rose among the nobility. People peeked into the doorway. Awed whispers filled the air.

"Silence!" King Alastair commanded. "Bring him in!"

Two armed knights entered the room, dragging a struggling young man between them. The prisoner's hands were bound by rope, with a large metal weight attached at the wrists. Heavy looking round weights were attached to the prisoner's ankles, creating a horrible scraping sound as he was dragged forward and shoved to his knees. The prisoner snarled and tried to get up, but the knights pressed him down.

The young man looked to be about Gray's age, nineteen or so. He had pink hair which signaled tribal parentage, and deeply tanned skin of someone who spent long hours outside. Sunlight bounced off Salamander's forearms and Gray gaped at what he saw.

Metal bracelets covered the young leader's skin from elbow to wrist on both arms. Gray has never seen so much magic dampening applied to anyone, even to the most ferocious slaves.

The youth snarled when a spear was brought close to his chest. He glanced at the knights and about the room with the look of someone who was used to sizing up situations. For a moment, the pinkette's eyes met Gray's, and Gray was startled by their colour – light green. Green eyes were extremely rare in Fiore, with most of the population sporting black or brown eyes. Gray was struck by their intensity - it seemed like the youth would fight everyone in the room if set free. It struck Gray that the youth's eyes looked like those of a caged cat - fearless, proud, and wild. This one brief moment sent shivers down Gray's spine.

The nobles gasped and whispered agitatedly, craning their necks to see over each other's heads. They had a reason to. Dragon Tribe has earned itself a reputation for being nearly undefeatable. The previous king tried to get them under control and pay tributes like other tribes, but all attempts ended up in stalemates with heavy losses for the king. That was remarkable considering that the Dragon Tribe had women and children, and was only thirty members strong.

The strangers started talking to the king, but Gray's attention was drawn to the young pink-haired man as if pulled by a magnet. He was very attractive, Gray admitted to himself. His face was very pleasing to look at, with smooth-looking skin, full pink lips and those expressive green eyes. He looked strong without being bulky. His toned muscles looked ready to spring, speaking of restrained power, and he was mesmerized by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He was dressed only in low rise white shorts that were gathered below the knees. His chest was painted with strange symbols similar to the designs on the two men's faces. The symbols didn't resemble any magical writing and seemed to be more of a decoration than anything.

"Bring him here. I want to get a good look at him," the king said.

Lyon lowered his spear, and led Salamander by the arm towards the podium.

Phantom Lord giggled as they passed. "He can be a little…fierce."

Salamander jolted at the words. His head whipped towards the two men. "Pridateli!" He yelled.

Gray bit his lips. He should have paid more attention in Tribal lessons. The prisoner's face was murderous, directed at the two men. "Gajeel razorvet all of you na chasti! Otpusti me! I will otorvy their golovi with my sobstvenimmi hands!" Gray understood only some of the words.

Salamander suddenly rammed Lyon with his shoulder, and launched himself at Phantom Lord, despite having numerous knights surround them. He moved very fast considering the weights on his legs. Two knights readied their spears to take on the Dragon leader. Gray held his breath, unable to take his eyes away from the gruesome scene that was about to happen.

"Ice Make, floor!" Lyon yelled. A stream of ice shot from his hands, across the floor and enveloped the pink-haired dragon slayer mid-jump, just as his feet had connected with the spears, knocking them out of the knights' hands. The ice enveloped pinkette's legs and arms, leaving only his head and chest visible. The crowd gasped, someone screamed. A few sensible nobles piled out of the room, while the rest watched on, whispering.

King Aliastair stepped down from the dais toward the scene. The knights reclaimed their spears and moved the two Phantom Lords away so that the king could approach.

The king stopped in front of Salamander, no emotion showing on his face. The Dragon boldly stared back. The king grabbed the boy's chin, and moved his face this way and that. The Dragon hissed and pulled away from the touch as much as the ice allowed.

Gray gulped nervously. What the hell was his father doing?

"They have two leaders," the king said, voice casual. "What happened to the Steel Dragon?"

Phantom Lord smiled, his eyes flashing with something that made Gray's stomach squirm. "My tribe is fighting them as we speak. We'll have the Steel Dragon any day, my king."

The king hummed, in thought or appreciation, Gray couldn't tell. He released Salamander's chin, still looking at the boy, who stared back unafraid.

The king stroke his beard, and Gray tensed. What would the king do with him? Salamander was obviously not new to battle, given his reputation and the little stunt he tried to pull on the knights. He looked strong enough to withstand the watermill, at least for a while. To top it off he was very attractive, and the king could claim him for his harem if he so wished. Gray wouldn't put it past the man to try, probably thinking of it as an exotic experience. Gray didn't like how the king's eyes trailed over the young man's body.

"That is not all, my lord," the stranger said. Gray released a breath he didn't know he's been holding, thankful for his father's distraction. Phantom Lord clapped his hands, and after an approving nod from the king, three pairs of knights came in, each pair carrying a large wooden chest. The lids were pried open to reveal solid gold bars. Gray's eyes widened, as did everyone's in the room. There was enough gold to set up a new colony.

Another knight brought swathes of fabrics – blue, which was insanely expensive, followed by purple and gold.

The last gift was a set of twelve pretty crystal jars in various colours – a perfume set from Blue Pegasus, the original seal still intact. It must have cost Phantom Lord years to accumulate that much wealth. Especially for Blue Pegasus' prized perfume – how did they even manage to acquire it? They shouldn't have been able to cross Fairy Tail's borders, much less reach Blue Pegasus located in the heart of the desert city-states.

Alastair kept his face blank, most likely mirroring Gray's line of thought. "You are forgiven for breaking into Fairy Tail," the king said. Phantom Lord bowed, creepy smile still in place. "I accept your tribute and in return, I let you leave the city alive. Lyon, escort Phantom Lord tribe to the city gates, and ensure that they are safely on their way."

"Yes, my liege."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Phantom leader said, his eyes huge. His smile was so wide it must have hurt him to hold it like that. "We will be in touch." Both men did a low bow to the extent of the poised spears, then piled out of the room, flanked by Fairy Tail knights.

Gray heard grunts and turned to Salamander who tried to wriggle out of Lyon's ice.

"Freed," the king said.

Freed walked over, pulling a spare slave collar from his pouch. Freed was one of the court High Priests, and was in charge of binding all slaves to their magic dampening collars or bracelets. He applied the spells which allowed only one person, usually the slave's owner, to remove the collar if he or she so desired. Right now, the binds on Salamander that kept him from using his magic were generic – anyone, even the Dragon leader himself, could easily brake them like any jewelry. But once the binding spell was applied, the collar's steel became harder than diamond, imbued with binding magic, so that nothing but the master's will could remove it.

Freed paused, noted the dragon's forearms, and pulled out two more collars. The collars worked the same as bracelets, but were less bulky. Their greater length allowed more magic to be absorbed, so every four bracelets equaled one collar. Salamander wore twelve bracelets, which in itself was mind-bogging. The savages must have decided to be on the extra extra safe side and added… four more bracelets, Gray's mind reeled, than necessary to bind Salamander's power. Even Elfman, the current arena champion, required only two collars.

Gray would have turned to leave, but he was still waiting for his father to declare what he'd do with the Dragon Tribe leader. He didn't want to see his father bind the Dragon and thus become the only one to control Salamander's powers. Gray punched the throne. Just the thought of it happening angered him.

"Gray, come here," the king said.

Startled, Gray complied. Salamander watched him, a hateful glare in his eyes. Despite the hostile expression, he looked even prettier up close. Those perfect jaw lines and stormy eyes… Gray swallowed, and forced himself to look away from the attractive new slave to his father.

The king smirked and grabbed Gray's wrist. The prince tried very hard not to grimace. "Go on, Freed," the king said, thrusting Gray's hand forward.

"What are you doing?" Gray cried in alarm. Freed made a small cut on the side of Gray's hand.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm giving you a slave."

Gray's mind went blank. There was mirth in his father's eyes. Why would his father give the slave to _him_, especially since Salamander met the criteria to be sent to all the hard places? It made no sense!

"Why?"

"Are you questioning my gift, boy?" The king's face darkened.

Gray bit back a nasty retort. "_No_, Your Grace." He tried hard not to glare.

"Of course you don't." The king scoffed. "Save your rebellious attitude for your new slave. I expect you to have him at your beck and call within the week."

Gray began to feel nauseous, which had nothing to do with blood pooling from his palm. Freed dipped his fingers into the blood, latched the first collar around Salamander's neck—

"Wait!" Gray grabbed Freed's arm. "No collars."

Freed paused, and looked at the king for confirmation. Gray seethed at the Priest's behavior. Even if he had no choice in accepting the Dragon leader as his slave, he at least wanted to spare him the indignity of being collared like a cow. It annoyed him that Freed looked up to the king for approval of every little damn thing. He was the crown prince, wasn't he?

"You heard him," his father said. Gray's shoulders dropped in relief. He had half expected the king to say no, just because he could. However saying yes left them with a bit of a problem.

The dragon's arms were covered in ice.

"He's your slave." The king tapped his foot on the mosaic. "Do something about the ice. I haven't got all day."

There were several ways to remove the ice, all of them unpleasant for Lyon. The ice was an extension of the caster, in the sense that it took conscious effort to maintain the magic, and that the caster was aware of what went on with his creation. Lyon would know if anyone tried to temper with his ice, or if there were any impurities. That was why all who could Ice Make rarely let their ice melt – it felt dreadfully unpleasant, similar to starving. That same feeling made it increasingly difficult to keep the remaining ice from melting – once the process started, it was harder and harder to stop it. Gray hoped that Lyon would recognise his magic and not resist. He didn't want to fight and exhaust his brother—not while the king watched.

Gray put his uninjured palm over the Dragon's outstretched leg and applied a little of his ice magic. There were a few seconds of resistance, and suddenly the ice fell apart like broken porcelain. Salamander dropped to the floor in an undignified heap, grunting in pain at the sudden impact. He curled into himself, his arms and legs having a distinct blue tinge.

Freed dipped his fingers into Gray's bleeding palm again, dropped to the pinkette's level and drew the first few lines cross the silvery bonds.

As soon as Freed drew the first rune, the Dragon gasped, his face scrunching up with pain. His body buckled as if pulled by invisible strings. Mirajane, a permanent kitchen slave, once described the sensation of the binding spell as being buried three meters under the sand and squeezed until your bones snapped. Freed pressed the struggling Dragon leader to the ground with his free hand, while drawing more runes with Gray's blood.

Gray bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making any sound. He felt sick, watching his new slave writhe in pain. He glanced away, and saw his father look at the scene with enjoyment. The king's smile was nearly as wide as Phantom Lord's.

Suddenly every bit of blood drained from Gray's face. All he heard were Salamander's pained grunts. _I allowed Freed to take the Dragon's freedom with my blood, _Gray thought_. I'm a monster. _

If it wasn't for his father's eyes that zoomed on him like a hawk, preying for weaknesses, and for two dozen gaping nobles, the raven-haired prince would have doubled over on the floor.

When the spell was finally over, the dragon slayer lay still. His chest rose and fell in a furious rhythm, and loud pants come from his throat. His body glistened with a sheen of sweat and he looked exhausted. Not a single cry of pain had escaped past his clenched jaws. A brief expression of relief passed across the Dragon's face, before he shot a fiery glare at Freed.

"Take him and the rest of the slaves to the branding chamber."

"Yes, Your Majesty." A couple of servants grabbed Salamander under the arms and led him away with a bit of difficulty. Gray couldn't keep his eyes off the hideous red marks that covered the rebellious leader's forearms. They taunted him, seeming to shout 'look what you've done! You're just like your father!'

Gray wanted to strangle that voice.

With that, the audience was over. The remaining noble men and women poured out of the room. Household slaves picked up the gold and the fabrics under Fairy Tail supervisors. Gray stood transfixed at his spot, mulling over what happened. His father beckoned the minister of trade, and Gray strained to hear their conversation out of reflex. It as an order to find out if Blue Pegasus had missed any perfume caravans. _Huh, so he thinks that Phantom Lord stole the goods too_. "And find out what happened to the actual Fleetfoot Tribe." Gray was glad for the momentary distraction. It kept his new slave out of his thoughts.

"Congratulations on your new slave, Your Royal Highness." A nobleman smiled at him like it was a cause for celebration. Gray felt like he might vomit.

"Please excuse me, lords, ladies." Gray made a hasty exit, not wanting to tolerate any more lies.

As he grasped the door handle, he had an unsettling feeling that someone was watching him. He glanced behind, and met his father's blue eyes. That satisfied smirk, that raised chin and the narrowed eyes…it was the face of a schemer. A shiver went down Gray's spine. He pressed the handle and left.

Someone grabbed his hand as he stepped through the door. Gray hissed, snatching his hand away. Juvia looked at him apologetically, until she noticed a red stain on her hands. Her wide eyes snapped to his, begging for an explanation.

"Gray-sama—"

Gray punched the wall with his bleeding hand, cutting her words off. The pain helped to relieve the turmoil in his heart, but only for a moment. His shoulders sagged, and he couldn't look Juvia in the eyes. "I am the worst…"

"I am sure Gray-sama did it to protect someone," Juvia said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"The hell I did. I'm the reason he writhed on the floor at my father's feet."

"So, you saved a boy?" Juvia's voice became cheerful.

He knew what she must have thought: him, bravely standing up to his father, like a mountain, shielding a small child from the worst possible fate.

His father had other plans.

"No. He's my age, possibly older."

Juvia's face darkened. "Did he…" She hesitated. "Did the king, you know…choose him?"

"I don't know." Gray clutched his hands into fists. "Maybe. Possibly. He was definitely attractive enough."

"Juvia doesn't understand. The king didn't assign him to pleasure quarters?"

Gray hit his head against the wall. "No. He assigned him to me."

Juvia's hand covering her open mouth.

"It was a gift, as sick as that sounds."

"Gray-sama…"

"He even took that one thing away from us. I wanted it to be on our terms."

"Gray-sama shouldn't feel so bad," Juvia said, gently taking his arm and tugging him away from the throne room door. "Any man or woman is lucky to be Gray-sama's slave."

"You are just saying that to cheer me up." He let her drag him away from the horrible room.

"Yes and no." She smiled. It wasn't a creepy Phantom Lord smile, but an honest one. "Gray-sama does not enjoy other's pain. He will be a kind master. Here," she took a jar out of her pocket. "Juvia made this medicine for the slaves, but kept one for herself. This should help with the pain and the swelling." She applied a dub of the pungent salve to his cut.

"Thanks, Juvia." Gray sighed. If only there was a medicine for the people of Fairy Tail, medicine that would heal years of pain and misery caused by his father's reign.

Juvia smiled again. It was the kind of smile that made Gray sad. A kind of slow burning flame shone in her eyes. She held his hand to her chest. "Juvia is happy to be of help to Gray-sama."

"We better hurry to the garden." Gray said, pulling his arm free and hooking his hands in his pockets. Juvia nodded and fell into step with him.

Once underneath the open skies, they sat on the bench furthest from the palace. Not a moment later, a faint scream broke the serenity of the garden. Juvia leaned into Gray, twining her arms around his bicep. Her eyes were scrunched shut and she looked close to crying.

Gray leaned back into the bench, conjuring his own ways to cope with the screams. This was all his father's doing. He had spelled the branding chamber to carry all sounds to the slaves' quarters, to serve as a reminder of something or other. It wasn't as if the slaves needed extra reminders with the collars hanging on their necks. The screams ended up resonating through most of the palace, and were quietest in the garden.

The unfortunate side effect was that as soon as it struck eight o'clock, they heard the citizen's cheer at this year's tribute intake. "King Alastair! Long live King Alastair!" The cheers eventually drowned out the tributes' screams.

Gray let Juvia cling to him this time. His eyes were directed skywards. He just wanted for this day to be over. That, and he dreaded hearing a certain Dragon leader scream.

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**Did you enjoy the first chapter? There is more to come! I will try to update every week, or every two weeks if I'm very busy. Again please favourite and review!**


	2. The Slave

**Hello everyone! A big Thank You to everyone who reviewed, followed and favoured this story! :D Your reviews especially motivate me to write and update faster. Thank you Peanut61654 for your support and enthusiasm! xD**

**Last chapter was really long; in fact, it was made of two normal-sized chapters. This chapter's length is about what all future updates will be if I can help it. xD**

**I hope you enjoy, and please review!**

* * *

**Chapter 2 **

**The Slave**

"We should head back to the palace," Juvia said reluctantly. They sat on the bench long after the screams had ceased. The citizen's cheers died down to a low murmur. Only an occasional drunken outburst pierced the air.

Gray's expression soured and he didn't follow Juvia to stand up from the bench. "I suppose we should." He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the ground.

Juvia's blue slippers entered his vision. "Gray-sama is avoiding going to his rooms and befriending the new slave."

Gray remembered Salamander's fierce green eyes and bit his lip.

Damn her perceptiveness.

"Not really. Maybe we could stop by the kitchens and grab some dinner—"

Juvia pulled his arm and he staggered to his feet to keep balance. "Gray-sama can get some dinner later and share it with the new slave."

Gray freed his arm and faced away from the palace.

"Come on Gray-sama. You can do it."

Gray pictured Salamander, bound, leaping at the two armed knights. "Yeah, sure I can do it." He gulped. Nothing short of an assassination attempt awaited him at his rooms.

xxxxx

Gray turned the door handle and peeked inside. He half expected the wild tribe leader to leap at him, strangle his throat and run for the exit. No such thing happened. The front room looked deserted.

He locked the door behind him. The mechanism clicked into place and Gray flinched at the noise. He eyed the open doorways to the branching rooms and listened for any signs of the pinkette.

The suite was eerily quiet.

Gray gulped. The Dragon could be anywhere. Best be on his toes.

He peeked into his bedroom first in the same cautious manner, frequently glancing behind his back to not be caught unaware. The room was left in the same messy state as he had left it earlier in the afternoon, clothes and sheets thrown everywhere. Nothing seemed out of place.

This left him with two more doorways to check. The first door led to the bathroom, and the second door led to the princess's room – which was just a spare room since Gray hasn't married a princess. Both rooms had their doors open, warm air flowing through the open space. There was a third door which led to Gray's pleasure quarters, but since he didn't have any concubines to house, that section remained locked.

The bathroom was the closest. Gray peeked inside, again, expecting to be thrown to the floor by the wild tribe leader.

Again, the room was empty.

That only left one room to check. A bead of sweat ran down Gray's face and he wiped it away with more force than necessary. He steeled himself for anything.

He saw the Dragon leader immediately, half crouched in a window and looking at him. He was still bound by ropes with weights attached. Dried blood marks decorated his forearms. Half the pinkette's body hung out the window, the wind raffling his hair. He glanced down, then back at the prince, and his eyes narrowed.

Gray decided not to interfere. He leaned in the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest, watching the Dragon battle it out in his head. There was no point in trying to stop him from jumping, as he could do it at any time Gray wasn't there. The question was whether the Dragon leader valued his life more than his dignity.

"Are you really going to kill yourself?" Gray asked after what seemed like forever.

The Dragon gazed at him, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Chto did you skazal?"

"Do you speak common?" Gray frowned.

"I don't ponimayu."

"Are you…" Gray scrambled his brain for more Tribal. "Throw…you... Ugh." He scratched his head. He didn't know the word for window, or even the word kill for that matter. "Um, very high." He looked at Salamander in defeat. He hoped he got the meaning across.

"Chto?" The Tribe leader sounded very confused.

"Just get out that goddamn window!" Gray motioned for him to come closer.

Salamander huffed, glancing down the street once more. This was ridiculous. The Dragon obviously didn't want to jump, otherwise he would have done so already. Gray's rooms were on the fifth floor with clay exterior walls devoid of ledges and handholds. There was no way down without severe injuries or dying.

Gray growled, fed up with pinkette's indecision. He didn't want to startle him but he was too annoyed to play cautious. He walked to the slave and yanked him down by the arm.

The Dragon hopped down, but instantly hissed in pain and pulled away from Gray's hold. Gray's hand was covered in sticky blood, and… saliva? He cleaned his hand on his shorts in disgust.

His attention was drawn to the Fairy Tail slave mark on the pinkette's right bicep. _That's strange_. The mark shouldn't bleed since it was pressed with a hot poker. Salamander was distracted by licking his bound hands and spreading more saliva on the wound, which gave Gray opportunity to come closer. He frowned at what he saw. The mark wasn't pressed as he'd expected, but carved out, the skin missing inside the shape. The cut looked quite deep. How come his wound wasn't treated? Mirajane should have distributed Juvia's salve to all the new slaves.

The slave stilled, and seemed to measure Gray up with narrowed eyes. Gray showed his empty palms. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you if you cooperate." He said in a calm voice.

The Dragon's stance widened and that was the only warning he got before Salamander launched at him, aiming an elbow at his face.

Gray ducked, and sidestepped an incoming knee. Damn, he was fast despite the weights dragging on the floor. Gray couldn't let this continue. He didn't want to fight his slave. Not while he was bound like this, anyway.

He parried the next blow. Before Salamander could recover, Gray's hand slid to his shoulder and pushed, while one of his feet hooked behind the Dragon and pulled. With his wrists bound, the slave failed to regain his balance and crashed to the floor. Gray didn't give him a chance to recover. He rolled him onto his front and sat over the Dragon's middle. He pressed the pinkette's shoulders into the carpet, effectively immobilising him.

"Stop struggling, damn it!"

The words had no effect.

"Stop," Gray said in Tribal.

"Kak budto I will slushat' you!" The slave snarled. He panted, sweat beading on his forehead.

"You be good, I be good." Gray cringed at how lame he sounded, but couldn't say anything better.

The slave struggled for a long while. Gray patiently pushed him down until the pink-haired leader ran out of energy. He lay still, except for the frantic rise and fall of his chest.

Now that Gray wasn't focused on holding him down, he noticed how smooth Salamander's skin was. His hands tingled with warmth where he touched the captive's unblemished shoulders. The curve of his back looked mesmerizing. The prince swallowed with his suddenly parched throat. He transferred his weight to just one arm. He lifted his hand, about to slide it along the pinkette's smooth back…

_What the hell am I thinking?_ Gray's face heated up. He placed the defiant hand on the floor by the Dragon's head.

The pinkette's lips parted, the sound of his ragged breathing filling up the room. His face lay on the side, hair sprayed every which way, revealing more delicious skin on his neck. Gray wanted to trace his hands over the delicate area, to feel that furious heartbeat...

_What the hell is wrong with me?_ He shook his head. _He's just tried to kill me and all I notice is…is…_

Gray held him down for a few more seconds. "Be good." He slowly moved off Salamander's back, trying to banish the image of running his hands along salamander's skin out of his thoughts. His palms felt cold and empty all of a sudden.

The slave sat up, burning holes in Gray's body with his stare.

"What's your name?" That was probably the only sentence that Gray had memorized.

"Natsu." The slave said after a while.

The prince pointed at himself. "Gray."

"Gre-i," Natsu repeated, rolling his name in that harsh Tribal tongue. Gray's shoulder blades tingled at the sound.

They stared at each other. Gray opened his mouth to explain about the bracelets but gave up after the first word. He stood up.

"Tribal not good." He motioned to himself. He walked to the door, careful to not leave his back exposed. He pointed outside. "Tribal good." He gave Natsu a stern look. "Be good."

"Your Tribal is uzasniy." The pinkette mocked.

Gray didn't dwell on the comment. He locked the room and ran to the kitchens.

The kitchens were alive with cleaning up activity. Dinner was due an hour ago. Spare food and fruit lay on the large table in the middle of the room for anyone missing the meal or wanting seconds. Anyone, except the slaves. The heady aroma made Gray's stomach grumble. He ignored the feeling, looking for a particular woman among the staring slaves.

He found her cleaning one of the large cauldrons. "Mirajane, I need your help."

Startled, she nearly dropped the cauldron onto the floor. Her hair was dirty beyond guessing the original colour. She wore a tattered linen apron, which was the cleanest part of her appearance. Her skin was covered with grease and food stains along her arms, neck and face. Her legs were smeared with dirt. Big blue eyes met Gray's black. "Gray! What can I do for you?"

"Come to my quarters."

She raised one eyebrow but didn't question. He tapped his foot impatiently while she wiped her hands on a towel, the only clean parts of her skin. He knew that her poor hygiene was out of necessity, not personal choice. "Do you have any of that salve left?"

"I do. Why?"

"What do you mean, why? To treat my slave's wound. His mark was carved instead of burned for some reason."

Her eyes widened. "What slave?"

It was Gray's turn to gape. "You don't know? My father gifted me Dragon Tribe's leader at the conclusion of the audience."

She gasped. "Salamander? Or Steel Dragon?"

Natsu would attack again if they didn't get back _now_. "You'll see."

She turned to the slaves. "Please keep cleaning. Don't let the head cook, Vidaldus Taka, catch you slacking. He throws things." She said something in Tribal, which he assumed was the same version of the message. "Lead the way."

They arrived at his rooms. Gray cautiously opened the lock and stepped through.

Natsu perched in that window again, looking at the earth below.

"Salamander!" Mirajane said, placing her hands on her hips.

Natsu tilted his head to the side. "Do I znayu you?"

"I'm iz Beastly Heart. We dralis's with your Dragon Tribe."

They spoke in Tribal, and Gray could hardly follow. He folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. Once again he cursed himself for not paying attention in Tribal.

Natsu came down from the window, but didn't come any closer. He eyed Mirajane with that same measuring look. After they spoke for a while, his stance became less aggressive. Gray let them speak, hoping it would calm down his slave's hot temper.

Mirajane explained something, motioning to Gray once in a while. She pointed to her forearms, and Natsu looked at the bloody writing. "Is it your blood?" She asked in an emotionless voice.

Gray nodded.

She said something, and Natsu's eyes met his. His hateful glare was so intense it startled Gray into Ice Make position. The Dragon growled, baring his teeth. Gray braced for an attack, but the Dragon leader turned back to Mirajane, listening. He wriggled his arms, trying to get free.

"You'll need to know Tribal. He can't speak any other language." Mirajane sat on the floor. She either didn't see or didn't care about the danger in front of her.

"I realised that." A weighed feeling settled over Gray as Salamander tried to bite through the rope. The prince looked away and sighed, folding his arms over his chest. Luckily the slave gave up quickly, spitting out rope hairs. The Dragon's posture sagged and he looked tired. He sat cross-legged and rested his head against the wall.

"What do you want him to do?" She patted the collar around her neck.

Gray leaned back into the doorframe. "I don't know… Bring me meals, carry my things, look after the rooms… The usual stuff." He shrugged.

She translated.

"He'll be living in the slave's quarters."

"What?" Mirajane looked at him surprised. "You don't want him to stay with you? Why?"

Gray struggled to formulate a response that wasn't sounding paranoid.

A knowing smile spread on her lips. "Are you embarrassed to have a slave?"

Gray chocked on air, and coughed several times to regain his breathing.

"That's not it! I just don't want him around when he's not needed."

She shook her head but didn't say anything. She walked over to Gray and gave him a jar of Juvia's salve. "Anything else?" She smiled sweetly.

"You didn't say anything to him about the sleeping arrangements."

"Anything else?"

Gray gulped. Why was no one listening to him today? He was the prince, damn it! "Will you show him around the palace so he knows where everything is?"

"I will, but not when he's looking like that." She motioned to the bound, bleeding, and garishly painted Dragon leader. "Do something about that. I'll send you two dinner later, when you two had more time to become friends." She walked towards the door.

He followed her. "Now wait a minute!"

"You boys be good." She shut the door.

Gray groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. What was wrong with everyone? Couldn't they see they were _not _getting along?

The Dragon leader tried to apply more saliva to his wound, and Gray's offended sense of hygiene finally had enough.

"Natsu."

The pink haired man looked at him. Gray flicked his wrist, motioning for Natsu to follow. When the slave didn't move, Gray cautiously stepped forward. He opened the salve, the pungent aroma filling the air. He pointed to the wound. "Is good for…" He trailed off, not knowing the words for wound or pain. "You be good, I be good." He motioned for the slave to follow him again, but Natsu didn't move.

Gray sighed, running his hands through his hair. Slowly, as to not startle him, Gray approached. The slave stood up at close proximity, and Gray paused, expecting blows. When none came, he gently grabbed Natsu by the wrist. His hands were cold to the touch. The slave didn't resist being led, which was a huge improvement. Gray didn't dare to turn his back on the man yet. He led him to the bathroom.

They stopped at the sink. Natsu looked around the room, awe briefly showing on his face before he locked his eyes on Gray again. _I wonder if this is his first time inside a building…_

Gray wetted a washcloth under the tap, and paused. How were they going to do this? He should have just ordered Mirajane to clean him up. There was no way Gray was removing Natsu's ropes yet so there was no hope of Natsu cleaning himself up. Gray gritted his teeth. It was too late to call Macao, as the old slave was probably busy serving the Tribute day celebrations in the king's quarters. It seemed like he had to clean Natsu himself.

Gray approached the Dragon leader from the side, keeping his head well away from the range of Natsu's arms. The pinkette could easily loop his bound wrists over Gray's head and strangle him if given the chance.

He carefully prodded the Fairy Tail wound with the wet cloth. Natsu hissed, and tried to jerk his arm away. Gray held his wrists down. "Don't move. It'll make it worse." He spoke in the calmest tone he could manage. "It doesn't really hurt that much. Don't be such a pussy."

He ended up talking to the Dragon through the procedure. His words probably didn't make sense to the slave, but he did seem to calm down and held still while Gray cleaned the wound. Gray swore silently when he realised the extent of the cut. It was deep, probably done maliciously on purpose. The wound was angry red where the skin was missing. Gray applied the salve to the cut, then bandaged the whole wound over with fresh linen.

Now the dragon leader wasn't bleeding, but he was still bound and painted in tasteless symbols. Gray wetted the cloth again. Now this was going to get very awkward.

He pushed Natsu to sit on the edge of the marble bathtub, and proceeded to wipe away the paint on his arms and shoulders.

The dragon hissed, wincing, and tried to wriggle away again. Gray paused, confused by the reaction. He was careful to avoid the bandaged wound. Then he noticed what was on Salamander's arms under the paint. Numerous lacerations covered his skin where the paint has been. The paint was a clever disguise to mask how injured the Dragon leader actually was.

He guided Natsu to the floor for more stability. "Look, I'm sorry, but this is gonna hurt." He proceeded to wipe the paint with cautious light pressured strokes. More marks revealed on the dragon slayer's body. Gray's blood boiled at the thought of Phantom Lord doing this to him.

It seemed that the Dragon leader had endured some sort of blast from the front, possibly several of them. There wasn't a single four inch square area of skin on his chest and arms that wasn't damaged in some way. Gray also wiped away Freed's runes. He didn't know how the Dragon would be able to sleep with pain from all that. There was a knock on the door just as Gray applied the last of the salve to the numerous wounds on Natsu's body.

"Natsu? Gray?" Mirajane called.

Gray set the empty jar down and led Natsu into the front room. Natsu didn't resist, looking drowsy. However the prince knew he'd spring into action if startled or provoked.

Mirajane gasped when she saw Natsu's numerous cuts, bruises, and larger wounds. She set a tray with two meals onto a low wooden table. She murmured something to him in Tribal.

"Tell him I'll free his hands if he behaves. So he could eat." Natsu looked docile now, and Gray hoped he would cooperate. He didn't want to injure Natsu anymore than he already was. _Damn._ _I should have known he was in so much pain._

Mirajane translated his message, and Natsu gave a firm nod. "Ruki bolyat."

"He said his arms are in pain. He'll behave."

Gray formed a small blade out of ice. As soon as Natsu saw that, his eyes widened and he staggered backwards into the wall. Just as quickly he dropped into a half crouch, looking ready to fight.

"Calm down," Gray said. "I'm just going to cut your ropes."

Mirajane translated, but Natsu still looked alarmed. Gray approached, ready to defend against a strike if it came. Natsu stepped back. Gray paused, letting the Dragon get used to him. Hesitantly, Natsu, held out his wrists.

Gray didn't drag this out, and cut the rope with one strike. The heavy metal weight clanged on the floor. Gray dissolved the ice blade and backed away, showing his unarmed hands. Mirajane talked about something, the words Ice Make popping out here and there.

The Dragon edged away from Gray, then flexed and rotated his wrists. His gaze fell to the food and a loud grumbling sound filled the room.

"Was that his or mine?" Gray asked.

"Both." Mirajane laughed.

Gray motioned to the low table, and with some coaxing from Mirajane, the three finally sat down. At first Natsu looked like he wanted to bolt, but eventually calmed down again. Mirajane served the meal, telling Natsu what Gray hoped were instructions on how to perform his duties and not telling him ways how to wriggle out of punishments. Alas, he had no way of knowing.

"Mirajane, have something." Gray offered her some fruit.

"Thank you, I already ate."

Natsu dug into his food like an animal, shoving meat and grain into his mouth without using fork and knife.

"Gross," Gray commented, while Mirajane laughed.

Suddenly the pinkette paused, and offered his plate to Mirajane. "You hochesh?"

"Thank you, I'm full," she said in common and in Tribal.

Natsu shrugged, digging into his meal again.

She winked at Gray. "See?"

Gray also noted that. "He's still not going to stay in my quarters. Tell him that."

She looked disappointed, but complied.

Natsu didn't show any outward reaction to the news.

When the meal was over, Mirajane piled the dirty dishes into the tray. "Well, Natsu and I will be going now. Are you sure you don't want him to stay here?"

"I'm sure."

She pleaded him with her big blue eyes.

"No, Mirajane. I will not have him sleep in my quarters. I don't want a slave to begin with. If it wasn't for my father—"

"You know, I'm glad." She interrupted.

"Huh? About what?"

"That you got a slave." She smiled.

Gray stared at her confused. "Why? It doesn't affect anything."

She hummed, a knowing look in her eyes. "No reason."

Talk about wanting to pull out one's hair!

"Anyway, Natsu and I will be going." She picked up the tray and headed out the door, Natsu in tow.

"Wait."

The two paused. "I'll cut the weights off Natsu's feet before you go."

Mirajane translated, but Natsu still looked on edge at the sight of the ice blade. Gray cut off the ropes around Natsu's feet. The slave didn't kick him, and Gray supposed that was reward enough.

"Goodnight, Gray. I'll send him to your rooms tomorrow morning." She smiled and closed the door.

Gray winced at the thought.

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**I hope you enjoyed this beginning of a beautiful friendship xD Chapter 3 should be up at the end of next week. **

**While you wait, why not check out Peanut61654's story titled "The Slave"? It has the same basic story idea and inspiration, and is a bit lighter in tone than In The Desert. **

******Type fanfiction address followed by /s/9853377/1/The-Slave**

**Please don't forget to tell me if you liked this chapter in a review! :D**

**Running Lynx**


	3. Lessons I

**Hello everyone! Third chapter is here! *dances* I had a writer's meltdown and I am very thankful to Peanut61654 for pulling me out of my slump. I dedicate this chapter to you, sensei, because I doubt I'd have gotten this far without you. *hugs* Thanks for being so awesome! :D**

**Thanks to all who reviewed and favoured.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Lessons I**

**Dedicated to Peanut61654 for teaching me what's really important**

Someone splashed water into his face.

"Gah!" Gray shot up in his bed, wet and wide awake. "Erza! What the hell?" He glared at his personal guard.

The crimson haired knight dropped the empty bucket. It clattered to the floor, the sound stabbing straight into Gray's brain. She pried open wooden shutters on the nearest window. The prince winced, shielding his eyes from bright sunlight behind the knight. "Do you want me blind?"

"It's your fault for not waking up when I knocked and called your name. I came to deliver your daily schedule. Hurry up." She threw a pair of pants at his face. "Get dressed. Eat. Your first lesson starts in twenty minutes."

Gray groaned, rubbing some life into his face.

"By the way, you might want to change your lock." She held up a broken door handle.

"Just great," Gray muttered. "By the way, where's—"

He stopped, noticing the pink-haired Dragon leader behind the woman. He clutched a tray of food in his arms, a scowl on his beaten up face.

Gray's eyebrows shot up. "That the hell happened to _him_?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" The knight crossed her arms over her breastplate.

Gray stared at his slave, trying to come up with the right words. He had snuck to the library last night, after hours of restless tossing in his bed. He couldn't sleep, the memories of screaming, writhing slaves replaying in his mind. Rather than chasing sleep that wasn't coming, he retrieved a book on Tribal and read by candle light until he passed out sometime when the light came up and the first birds chirped in the garden. The image of Natsu, bound by Gray's own blood, was particularly haunting.

"What did you do?" Gray asked carefully.

The slave's left eye was swelled shut, the whole area from his brow to cheek a dark purple colour. He had purple bruises on his jaw and near his ear. His pants were dirty with blood splatters, and were torn at the knee. His knuckles were crusted with dark brown scabs.

The slave stuck his chin up. "I gave him what he zasluzil." He sneered, the expression at odds with the bruising on his face.

"Gave who?" Gray prompted.

"The man with sinemi volosami. Vida-chto-to his name is."

Vidaldus Taka, the head cook.

"Why?"

Natsu's expression hardened. "He hurt Mirajane."

An uneasy silence settled over the room.

"What happened to the cook?" Gray asked Erza in common.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him this morning."

Gray proceeded to get dressed, the knight politely looking away. He then went to the bathroom to splash some water into his face and arranged his hair into some semblance of order.

"You have ten minutes to eat and walk to the library."

"Yeah yeah." He picked the food tray from Natsu, who glared, and sat at the low table in the front room.

"Last night was pretty good. Only two slaves tried to run while their masters were drunk." Erza launched into the city report while Gray ate. "They gave a good chase but I caught them before they reached the slums."

Gray'd run too if Erza chased him, sword drawn like she did with the slaves. He'd run for his life, not just for freedom.

He noticed Natsu picking at the scabs on his knuckles. "Stop it."

Natsu raised an eyebrow, and stuck out his chest. "And what esli I don't?" He taunted.

Gray's hand gripped the edge of the table, hard. A dozen retorts were at the tip of his tongue. He opened his mouth, and promptly clenched it shut. Damn it! If only Natsu understood common! He angrily bit into his bread, crumbs flying everywhere.

To Gray's surprise it was Erza who answered. She faced the slave, a sword materialising in her hand. "Stop otkavirovat' ruki. Ili I will otrezy them for you."

Natsu actually trembled, taking a step back and shielding his head with his arms.

Gray's jaw dropped, the piece of bread clanging back onto the plate. "What did you s ay to him?" He said in wonder.

"Nothing much." She dismissed the sword and half-turned back to Gray. "I just said I'd cut off his hands if he keeps doing that." She waved a hand in the air like she was cracking a joke.

Gray just stared. Suddenly her eyes narrowed at him. "_Gray_." She growled.

The prince gulped, taking a drink of water to quench his suddenly dry throat. She approached, face furious. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. "So what? I never needed to use it before!"

"You insolent brat!" She reached for him. "I taught you myself!"

He scrambled to get away from the table.

She was faster. A sword reappeared in her hand.

"Eeep!" Gray shielded his head and torso with his arms. At that moment he understood how Natsu felt when faced with the knight.

SLAM!

The sword struck the floor, a hair width away from his butt. His shorts now sported a long vertical cut at the seam.

"This is unacceptable, Gray Fullbuster!"

The prince swore, his speech putting most cobblers to shame before he got a grip on himself. He nearly peed his pants. "Erza! You want to maim me?"

"You will speak Tribal or die trying!" He knew she wasn't kidding. "I'll cancel your lessons. Three days!" She held the sword to his chin. "I will teach you Tribal in three days. You're not allowed to eat or sleep during that time."

He backed away from the woman. "You're crazy! Get away from me!"

She huffed but then her posture relaxed and she dropped to one knee next to him. She offered him a hand up. "Look what's become of you. A prince shouldn't be huddling on the floor."

Gray stared at her like she grew a second head. Freaking hell, he should punish her for threatening a royal! Too bad he could already picture his father looking at him with raised eyebrows when listening to Gray's request. Alastair would scoff and tell him not to bother him with such trivial matters.

Damn the king for assigning the devil woman as his personal guard and head teacher! The guard bit he could deal with but making her in charge of his education was sheer hell.

His shoulders dropped, recognising the futility of the situation. He accepted her hand, and she dragged him to his feet. "The three days will start tomorrow. Now finish eating, we leave in one minute."

Gray noticed Natsu staring, and the raven's face heated up. Damn Erza, making a fool out of him in front of his slave! What will his slave think? Way to go destroying any chances he had of earning Natsu's respect. To Gray's surprise, the pinkette actually looked at Erza with fear written plainly on his face.

"Time's up! Let's go!"

Gray gulped down the rest of his water and followed the knight to the door, wiping his lips with his wrist.

Natsu followed, but Gray held up a hand. "I'll leave him in my rooms out of harm's way."

"No." Erza blocked the prince. "He comes with us. He must be there in case your father decides to check."

The chances were small that the king would check on them, but if he did and Natsu wasn't there to serve Gray… The prince grimaced. He didn't want to make Natsu take any more punishment to his already badly wounded body. "All right. Tell him to behave or I'll freeze him to a chair for the remainder of the day."

Erza translated, and Natsu narrow his eyes at him in response.

The three walked down the corridor, Erza in the middle and Gray and Natsu on the sides. "You must not let the king find out about your Tribal."

"You don't have to tell me that." He cringed just thinking about possible punishments.

"How'd you not learn in the first place?" She asked.

"I kept drifting off to sleep. You enjoyed your lectures too much to notice."

The female knight blushed and looked at the floor. "You could have told me."

He would have thought it cute if she wasn't a monster.

"I did. You just smashed with your ruler more."

They arrived at the library entrance. "Your first lesson is mathematics, then history and rhetoric. The afternoon is for self-study."

Gray nodded, about to open the door.

"Lyon said he'd visit at the change of shifts."

She began to walk down the corridor when Gray suddenly remembered something. "Oi! Erza, Can you translate one last thing for me?"

She waited.

"Tell him he'll be sleeping in my quarters from now on."

She did, and Natsu gave him a strange look.

"And can you please find out what happened to the cook?"

The knight sighed. "I will. Now go and make me proud."

She was so strange sometimes. Maybe that's why his father saved her from death in the desert thirteen years ago.

xxxxx

It was the break between lessons. "You look like Erza just tried to strangle you," Lyon said.

Gray gave his brother a sour look. "Don't even joke about it. I'm just tired because math is boring and because Natsu was distracting me."

"Who?"

"Or right. Salamander." Gray motioned lazily to the former Dragon leader who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, back propped against a book case, eyes closed in sleep.

Lyon frowned. "You didn't have to beat him up."

Gray stoop up, his chair skidding across the mosaic floor. "I did _not_ beat him up!"

"Hey, I was joking." Lyon held up his hands in the air.

Gray clenched his firsts. "Do not joke about that! It's not like that!"

"Then what happened?"

Gray retrieved the fallen chair and told Lyon what he knew. Somehow, Natsu remained asleep through the commotion.

"Those bastard Phantom Lord. I hope they don't come back," Lyon said. "There's something off about them that sets my teeth on edge."

"More than how their eyes are whole black?"

"They reek of blood."

Gray frowned. "Reek? Were they bleeding or something?"

"Not that I could tell, but they stunk of it. It's the same smell when the battle is over and you notice all the corpses that've been cooking in the sun."

"Thanks for the image."

"You're welcome."

Instead of laughing, Lyon sighed, his face suddenly becoming pensive. Gray knew something was up. Lyon looked out the far window, mind seemingly elsewhere, fingering the edge of Gray's books. Then he stared at his own hands for a while. Gray didn't mind, grabbing an orange from a tray on the table. Lyon got up and ran a hand through his hair. He paced the room.

Gray decided to start a topic. "Do you know if the Fleetfoot tribe was found yet?"

"Them? Yeah, we ran into them while escorting the Phantom clowns. They apparently ran into a sandworm and had to take it out."

"Do you know when the audience—"

"This afternoon."

Gray grumbled. One more audience he had to go to. However he noticed that Lyon was obviously distracted about something. "Long shift?" He prompted.

Lyon run his hands over his face. "Ugh. The worst."

Gray just waited, knowing that his brother would eventually spill what was bothering him. Natsu rolled his head to the other side, still asleep.

"I thought I trained my men better than letting savages into the city just because it was Tribute day." Lyon's posture crumbled.

Gray waited.

"I had to whip my own men." Lyon looked at his hands. "The king personally oversaw that I did the exact amount."

Gray put the orange on the table. He had no idea what to say. 'That sucks' didn't seem to cut it.

"What would you have done instead?" Gray asked.

"The captains I'd demote to city patrol. Others I'd assign to graveyard shifts for a few months. The worst case I'd assign them to the watermill for a week – they'd be eager to improve themselves after _that_. Not freaking whip them till they passed out."

Gray bit his lip, wishing he hadn't asked. "When's you next shift? The audience in the throne room?"

Lyon nodded.

More uneasy silence. "Go to sleep. You look like a camel ran you over," Gray said.

"I can say the same to you. What's with the red eyes? You've been crying?"

"Shut up!" Gray huffed. "I was reading all night."

"Sounds suspicious." Lyon walked towards the door. "You were probably making out with Juvia until early hours in the morning."

"You know it's not like that!" Gray's face reddened.

Lyon snorted. "See you later at the usual place. Or at the audience if you're coming."

Gray grumbled. "Of course I'm coming."

Then the history teacher, a hunched middle-aged man, walked in.

"Just don't forget your pants." Lyon said and shut the door.

Gray looked down. Damn! Where the hell did he throw them this time?

xxxxx

It was the short break between history and rhetoric lessons, and Gray finally had Natsu alone in the room. The Dragon leader had woken up after his little nap earlier, and sat on the floor, boringly looking around the room, fingering a tattered book with no real attention.

"Natsu."

The pinkette's head whipped in his direction at the call of his name.

Gray slowly walked up to the pinkette and sat in the same cross legged position a few feet away from the slave, but still close enough so that no one overheard them. Gray took a steady breath. He's been reading all night to compose what he was about to say.

He pointed to the slave's forearms. "I will remove the bracelets and give you your power back if you follow my directions and don't make any trouble. Do you understand?"

Natsu looked at him a little surprised. Then he scoffed, not looking convinced.

"I will give your magic back if you are good."

The pinkette studied him again with his one good eye, arms folded over his wounded chest.

"Do you obeshaesh?"

Gray bit his lip. "I do not understand."

Natsu frowned. He pursed his lips and looked away.

"My Tribal is not good." Gray sighed, leaning his arms on his knees. "I do not understand many. I better Tribal tomorrow." Or Erza'll kill him.

"You govorish you'll give my powers back if I do what you prikazal. Will you pravda do it? If I'm good?"

"Yes." Gray said with the most serious tone he could. He stared Natsu in the eyes. "Yes I will if you are good."

"Kodga?"

"I do not understand."

Natsu clutched his hands around the book.

"Don't trouble and I will."

The teacher entered the room and Gray rose to his feet. Natsu watched him with an unreadable expression as he left.

xxxxx

Gray sighed, stretching his sore limbs from sitting so long bent over books in the library. Time to have lunch.

He tore off a small piece of paper off his scroll and jotted down instructions about what he wanted to eat. "Natsu."

Wincing, Natsu rose to his feet. His eye still looked terrible, but the other bruises took on a yellowish hue, which weren't as noticeable. "Give Mirajane." He handed Natsu the note. "Don't make trouble."

Natsu flipped the note over in his hands, a slight frown on his face. Gray motioned to the open library doors. "Give Mirajane," he repeated.

Natsu looked a little surprised at this, looking between the door and him. He clearly didn't expect Gray to just let him leave. The prince waved him to go. He wasn't worried about Natsu running away. Lyon had stationed extra guards and patrols especially to stop the new slaves from making a break for it. Natsu hesitantly stepped towards the door, watching Gray as if he thought that the prince would change his mind any second.

The slave got to the door, Gray's note clenched tight. He turned a corner, and Gray heard the patter of running feet. For a brief moment he was worried that Natsu would make a run for it, but then dismissed the thought. There was no escape from the palace. He just hoped that Natsu wouldn't try to take on the guards again and get more beat up.

Besides, he couldn't keep Natsu with him all the time. That'd be bad for the slave, who already looked bored to sleep, and for Gray, who found it harder to resist smacking the slave when he did something irritating like flipping a book over and over. Maybe it was a bit too early to let him run all over the palace, but he could at least fetch food and talk to Mirajane to relieve some of the boredom.

The prince walked to his rooms. He had written in his note to bring the food to his quarters so he wasn't worried about Natsu not finding him.

Reedus bowed as the prince entered, a polishing rug in his hands. A basket with work tools laid at the slave's feet. A new _working_ doorhandle graced the door, and Gray couldn't distinguish where Erza's sword gash had been. The slave hurriedly threw the cloth into the basket and, still hunched, tried to edge around Gray.

"Thank you, Reedus. You can stand if you want. I won't hurt you." Gray let the slave pass.

Reedus, still bowed, dashed to the door as if his life depended on it. His hands shook so bad, he missed the door handle on the first two tries. He got out, but left his tools behind in his haste.

Gray sighed. He had no idea how Macao persuaded the ex-concubine to enter royal quarters each time. "It's all right. You can come back."

A hand shot through the door and pulled out the basket.

"I appreciate you fixing my room. I really mean it."

Gray didn't expect a reply, and there was none. He didn't hear the man's retreating footsteps either. It was as if Reedus ceased to exist.

But Gray remembered him and hoped that one day, people like Reedus would stand tall and pridefully showcase their work.

He wrote out several new Tribal words to memorise while he waited for his slave to come back with his meal. He wondered what Natsu meant by a couple of words earlier. He clearly remembered the first one. Kogda.

He flipped to the back of the book for the list of words. Kogda – when.

When he would remove the binds? Well, only Natsu's good behaviour could tell.

The second word was harder as Gray hardly remembered it. Obesha-something.

He looked at the words starting with obe. Some words Gray could easily discard like 'white', 'fat' and 'monkey'. But that still left him with a few words that could have fit. Bullying, adoring and promising all started with obe.

Gray dismissed the adoring meaning. Do you adore? Doesn't sound like something Natsu'd say. Bullying…well, after their fight last night, the answer to that one should have been clear. As for the last one…

Do you promise?

Gray paused, his mind momentarily loosing focus. He looked about the room, not really seeing anything, just thinking. His eyes landed on the spot, where through the wall, the window the dragon slayer liked to perch in was. Did Natsu really ask him that? Did he really believe that whatever Gray said had any value?

Would he believe if Gray had said yes?

The prince kneaded his bottom lip, thinking of the rebellious Dragon leader. How he challenged everything Gray did. How he had to press him to the floor just to make him listen… How hot and smooth his skin was when he held him down last night. Gray's hands tingled at the memory. It felt so good to watch him struggle to catch his breath, those pink lips parted in surrender…

The door to the rooms opened and Natsu walked in, balancing a tray in one hand as he closed the door with the other. Gray sat up straight, his face flushing with heat. He had not just fantasised about his slave!

Natsu approached with the tray, his eyes narrowed a little. More heat flooded Gray's face, and he focused on the sights and smells of the food instead. Freshly baked bread. A slice of veal, steam still coming off the meat. Sliced cucumber and tomatoes, watery hard to grow vegetables. _Granata_ puree was for desert, an exotic cross-breed between orange and mango, brought from Fairy Tail's closest neighbour city, Goat Horn ruled by king Gildarts. Gray's mouth watered at the delicious treat.

He reached out to take the tray, when Natsu suddenly lifted it up and dumped its contents on Gray's head. The prince was too stunned to react at first, instead watching the _granata_ slide down his chest and into his lap. It wasn't until Natsu burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching his sides, that Gray registered what had actually happened.

"You idiot!" He rose to his feet. "Do you have any idea how much that fruit costs?"

Natsu looked at him and laughed harder. He wiped a tear off his good eye, holding his middle.

Gray grit his teeth, his vision going black at the edges. He marched over to his slave and yanked him by the wrist into the corridor. Natsu hissed and tried to pry open Gray's grip, then beat at his hand with a fist, but Gray hardly felt the sensations. He didn't turn to check if his slave could keep up or not. He felt the blood pounding against his temples. If he couldn't explain to him how unacceptable such behaviour was, he'll take him to someone who will!

Gray kicked open the kitchen door, sweeping the startled slaves for Mirajane. She was at the far corner again, swirling boiling liquid in a large cauldron. Gray yanked Natsu to stand next to the woman.

"What happened?" She asked, eyeing Gray's appearance and Natsu, who was still trying to pry open Gray's fist, a pained expression on his face. Gray yanked his wrist again, to make him stand still.

"Explain to him that wasting food is not tolerated in the palace!" Gray said.

Her eyes widened a little and she carefully said what Gray hoped was a direct translation.

"To drill that into his stupid brain, I forbid everyone from giving him food. He will not eat or drink until I say so! I swear it on my father's name, if anyone gives him food or water I will have them whipped for disobedience!"

Mirajane gasped. "Prince Gray, please reconsider—"

"No," Gray said.

She looked at him with hurt or sadness in her eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry, but he needs to understand this. He won't get it any other way, and I don't want to beat it into him."

She still looked sceptical, but translated anyways. Natsu stuck his chin up, jaws tight, gaze defiant. Gray hummed, narrowing his eyes. Natsu had no idea what he just got himself into.

"Get me something to eat," Gray said, feeling a headache settle behind his eyes. He sat on a stool next to Mirajane. His shoulders slumped, and he suddenly felt drained.

Mirajane brought him warm bread and a bowl of soup that she'd been stirring. Sticky dates were piled up in a platter for desert. No veal. No vegetables. No _granata_. Gray seethed angrily at Natsu, who folded his arms over his chest once more and looked away from Gray eating. The king's orders were clear regarding meals. Everyone got a certain amount of rare fruit per day, and his slave had just ruined Gray's share. He watched Natsu dry swallow and an evil smile crossed Gray's face.

"Has he eaten lunch yet?"

Mirajane shook her head.

"Perfect."

"Gray…" Mirajane pleaded.

The prince ignored her.

She looked between the two of them, her hands clutched over her chest.

Gray frowned and motioned to the yellow bruises and nail marks on her wrist. "When did you get those?"

Mirajane looked away, swirling the soup some more. "Today," she said after a while.

"Who?" Gray's tone darkened. He looked at the other slaves milling about the kitchen. Two other girls spotted similar marks on their wrists.

"Vidaldus Taka."

The head cook.

"Again?" Gray yelled. "He's never been violent like this! How long's this been going on?"

"Not long." Mirajane's voice was small. "He got really angry after Natsu beat him."

It may have been recent, but Gray knew that it was too late. It seemed that Vidaldus finally discovered the taste for violence.

"Gray, you're not thinking of punishing him, are you?" Mirajane whispered.

"I can't punish him. The king chose him for the role. Even if I did, I think he'd just take it out on you later."

"Then what—?"

"We'll just have to persuade him that Vidaldus is no longer the best man for the job. Where is he?"

"He's at the markets—"

"Good. I need to talk to you and a couple of your girls. I have a plan."

* * *

**What is Gray's plan? What has Natsu gotten himself into? Hehe, you'll have to wait to find out! xD**

**Check out Peanut61654's awesome story titled 'The Slave'! It's the same basic idea as this story but the plot's different and is much faster paced than this one! xD**

**Type fanfiction address followed by /s/9853377/1/The-Slave**

**Was this chapter good? Please leave a review and favourite!**

**I'll reply to your reviews here since I'm always slow to respond:**

**anne623: Thanks! Glad you like the story!**

**Yua-chan: I hope you like this new chapter. :D**

**Mayuko-chan: I agree Mira is awesome. Hehe, she might help teach Gray Tribal. Your thinking's very close to mine. xD Gray's definitely in trouble if he doesn't learn Tribal soon!**

**x0xalexis8: I'm really happy you like the story! :D**

**lydiareynolds117/gratsulover117: I'm glad you liked last chapter despite how sad it was. Hehe, maybe Gray will ask Natsu to help. He needs to learn the language first though. xD**

**Llaelien: Thanks! Your bad English is forgiven :) Please review in whatever language is comfortable for you, I'll google translate it later. xD You're right. If Gray had let Natsu stay with him, Natsu wouldn't have gotten more injured...among other things. :3**

**Peanut61654: Thanks, sensei! xD**

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**Crystalangel554: Yes, Natsu's skin wouldn't burn so they carved the mark into him :( I am so happy you understood my sarcasm! XD The language barrier won't stay much longer now that Erza's in the picture. I'm so happy you like the story!**

**Thank you to everyone who reviews. Your comments mean a lot to me.**


	4. Noon

**Hello everyone! Sorry for posting this so late! My Christmas and New Years celebration period was 1500% more crazy than normal. I also moved houses and changed computers. Hopefully next updates wouldn't take this long!**

**Thank you to Peanut61654 for your help and enthusiasm!**

**I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Noon**

After discussing the plan, Gray and Natsu returned to the prince's quarters for the hottest part of the day. The sun was directly overhead, and every object in direct sunlight radiated heat. Everyone in Fairy Tail had the four hours from noon to four o'clock free to nap or do whatever they wished. The streets were deserted, and every living creature seeked shelter from the scorching sun indoors.

Gray groaned, sweat running down the sides of his face. He was doing absolutely nothing, just laying naked in his bed, and all he felt was heat. It felt like his skin was literally melting. The hot air burned his lungs. His heavy breathing was drowned out by the rattling of cicadas.

It was absolutely unbearable.

Natsu had retreated to that window again, which Gray now determined was Natsu's favourite spot. Just before he'd left for his room, he checked how the Dragon leader was coping with the heat. It didn't seem to affect him as bad as it did Gray, however he noticed that the heat did seem to aggravate the pain in his wounds. He didn't hide the winces off his face, his back hunched and his arms wrapped around his middle.

Gray could have made some ice to ease the pain, but he was still seething over Natsu's show of defiance earlier. He left the Dragon to bear the pain.

He tried to sleep, his body feeling heavy and drained of energy. But it was too hot to do even that.

_I don't know how I survive this every day_, Gray thought.

He rolled off the bed and onto the mosaic floor.

"Ice Make, floor!"

Cool, crystalline structure covered the floor of his bedroom. Gray collapsed onto it with relief. He had no idea how anyone survived this weather without ice magic.

There was a knock on his door.

Gray groaned, searching for his pants. "Who is it?"

"It's Macao."

Gray crawled over and put on the nearest pair of pants. "Come in."

Macao, an old palace slave and the assistant to the housemaster, peeked into the doorway. "I wish I could do that," he said, tapping the icy floor.

Gray collapsed to the floor, too tired to move. "What's the matter?" He whispered.

"Actually I came for Natsu. It's time for his watermill shift."

Gray leaned on his elbows. "Now?"

"The king said so."

Gray frowned, thinking of pinkette's injuries. His father must be crazy sending untrained slaves to the watermill in this heat. If Natsu goes to the watermill now…with injuries like that…

"Don't worry, I changed my shift to match his. I'll carry him back if he passes out."

Gray pursed his lips. "In this weather, he'd do more than pass out."

Macao smiled. "The Dragon Tribe is tough. He'll be all right."

Gray doubted that very much. Still, he couldn't stop the slaves from going unless they were so ill they couldn't move. "Follow me."

The Dragon leader was sitting in the window, arms around his middle, head on his knees and looking outside. From this vintage point, the icy dome of the watermill was clearly visible in the distance. That was where every male slave, palace, arena or otherwise, served a compulsory two hour shift each day, pumping water for the citizens of the city. Natsu was less lucky than others, getting the worst possible shift – at noon.

"Natsu, I'm Macao iz Red Hare Tribe. You navernoe videl me vokrug palace. Nam pora idti to nash watermill dva chasa. I will ob'yasnyu po doroge."

The Tribal went right over Gray's head. There was still so much he didn't know.

Natsu reluctantly turned over to look at them. His skin was flushed and he looked sick.

"Mozno ostatsya?" Gray never heard his voice so quiet.

Macao looked sympathetic. "K sozaleniuy, no. Gray ne mozet otmenit your rabotu."

"What was that?" Gray asked, recognising his name.

Macao looked at him surprised. "I thought you knew Tribal."

Gray resisted punching a wall. "What's wrong with not knowing? I never needed it before!"

"Easy easy, Your Highness." He teased, a twinkle in his eye.

First Mirajane, now Macao! He was the prince, damn it! Not to be laughed at!

"I said that you can't cancel his shift. He asked if he could go later."

"Oh."

"Dovai, dovai, we pora." Macao motioned for Natsu to come. "Inache we will be otsyakut."

Natsu climbed down the window, less energetic and less graceful than he had before. His green eyes looked dull. "What's watermill?"

Macao led him out the door, where two knights waited in the corridor. Gray watched the two slaves leave until they were out of sight and the last bit of their conversation faded into the roar of the insects of outside.

Gray came back inside and lay on the ice floor again. For some reason, he didn't find it as comforting as before. He got up, stripped of the pesky trousers, and cracked open his book on Tribal. Yet nothing seemed to register. What was the point of studying if Macao carried back a dead slave?

This was stupid. Macao was right. Dragon Tribe wouldn't have earned such a reputation if they couldn't withstand the heat and hard work. Even if they were injured.

Right?

Gray realised he was thinking in circles and snapped the book closed with more force than necessary. Tribal couldn't distract him from the slave, in fact it only reminded him more of Natsu. He shattered his ice floor and went to the door. Perhaps the palace soldiers were up for a sparring match.

xxxxx

Gray saw them coming from his perch up in Natsu's window. Twenty knights marched down the central road to the palace, surrounding about fifteen slaves. Gray hopped from the window, ran down the corridor, down four flights of stairs and flung out the palace doors, not caring about what the stationed knights there thought of him. His thoughts were only about one pink-haired slave.

Flanked by the knights, Macao led the procession, supporting the pinkette who had one arm around the older slave's shoulders. The Dragon barely moved his feet, Macao dragging most of his weight. The rest of the newcomers fared worse, their torsos slung over the shoulders of more experienced slaves. Macao shot Gray a wide grin. 'I told you he'd be all right,' his eyes seemed to say.

Gray let out what was probably the longest sigh in his life.

The procession came indoors, the palace gates shutting with a resounding thud of wood on steel. "Help me get him to my rooms," Gray said, slinging Natsu's other arm over his shoulders. The pinkette looked too exhausted to protest, barely being able to hold his head from slumping into his chest.

They got to Gray's quarters and put Natsu into an armchair in the front room. Natsu didn't resist, slumping his head to the side and closing his eyes, breathing heavily. He looked totally devoid of energy, breathing with his mouth open. "Gray, please let him have some water," Macao pleaded.

The prince was about to say yes, when an odd idea struck him.

"Thanks for looking out for him," Gray said sincerely, then hardened his voice. "You may go."

"But the boy's parched—"

"You have my leave."

Macao swallowed, wiping some sweat off his forehead. "Gray, don't be unreasonable. He just did more work than the three rookies combined!"

"Don't make me repeat myself," Gray warned.

Macao's brows drew together. He made to say something, a hand raised in the air, but stopped. He gave a curt bow. "As you wish, Your Royal Highness." He slammed the door.

Gray swallowed. Maybe pissing off Macao wasn't such a good idea. But he had to show his authority once in a while! His eyes ran over his slave again, who was flushed an unnatural red colour. The prince clamped his hand over the Dragon's forehead, and indeed, he was burning up.

Gray walked to the bathroom and filled a pitcher with water from a tall clay pot. He grabbed a clay cup from the low table and filled it with water. He was about to hold it out, but something about the unresponsive Dragon stopped him. The raven realised that he may not get another opportunity like this again.

He held the cup to the pinkette's lips, tilting his head up so he could drink. The Dragon stirred a little, noticing the cup with cloudy eyes. He reached for the water, but Gray swatted his hands away. He'd either drink from his hand or not at all.

The Dragon leader shot him a hazy look, but whatever defiance he had was gone as soon as it appeared. He lowered his arms and proceeded to drown the water from Gray's cup. There was something magnetic about watching the Dragon drink from his hand. Gray poured a second cup, which the pinkette drowned too. He made for a third cup but the Dragon turned his head away. Hmm…

Salamander closed his eyes again, slumping against the backrest of the armchair. His breathing had calmed down, and he looked a lot less red. When Gray felt his forehead, he felt less hot too. He should let the Dragon sleep, but where?

He hadn't thought about where Natsu would sleep. He could place him in the servant room that branched off the bathroom, which was the actual room that a personal slave was supposed to occupy. But it was a small windowless room, and the raven knew that many slaves felt claustrophobic in small dark places. He didn't want Natsu to tear the place down when he woke up.

He seemed to like that window overlooking the city, which was in the princess's room. No one had slept there in months. Gray supposed why not, it wasn't like he was getting married anytime soon. Sure, it was a little fancy for just a slave, but it was that or the pleasure quarters...

Definitely the princess room!

He was about to drag the pinkette to the bed, but something about him being so… open and defenceless, without that usual rebelliousness, stopped Gray in his tracks. He could exploit this, somehow show Natsu that he wasn't the cruel man his father was. But really, he just wanted to show him that he could do other things than fight and order him around. That he could help.

Gray walked behind Natsu's chair. Natsu opened his unfocused eyes halfway to check what he was doing as he approached, then closed them again without shifting. He didn't jump up, ready to battle. In fact, the slightly pained expression on his face could have been dread – his way of bracing himself for whatever was coming. His hands were draped loosely over his stomach, but not limp. Gray took a couple of moments to figure out what he wanted to do, and noticed that the Dragon was strangely still. He couldn't place what was wrong until he saw Natsu's chest move – the Tribal leader was holding his breath. He expected Gray to do something. Well, Gray decided to spare him the torment and get on with it.

He leaned forward, so that his chest touched the back of the armchair, and placed his hands firmly over Natsu's shoulders. The slave gasped, and Gray's heart leaped in his chest at the sound. The slave raised his arms, trying to grab Gray's hands. The prince swatted the clumsy attempts away. The slave tried to get off the chair, but Gray's gentle pressure over Natsu's shoulders kept him in place.

The slave slumped back into the chair with exhausted and resigned air. "Otpusti me." It sounded suspiciously like a plea.

"I don't do pain," Gray said calmly. He slid his hands along Natsu's shoulders, careful to avoid any wounds, and pressed his palms into the muscles at the base of Natsu's neck. The slave instantly tensed, but Gray didn't pay that any mind, until Natsu twisted, angling his body so he was half-facing Gray.

"What are you doing?" Natsu asked, frowning. His breathing began to pick up again.

Gray struggled to hide his disappointment at the sudden lack of contact. He didn't even understand why the pinkette twisting away affected him so. All he knew was that he wanted to continue what he started.

"Watermill give pain. You become very pain next day." He grabbed Natsu's shoulder again and squeezed gently. "I help."

Natsu tried to jerk away but his actions lacked force – all Gray had to do was stay still. The pinkette soon stopped struggling and slumped back in the chair. He turned his head away and muttered, "Tol'ko do it bistro."

Gray frowned at the almost pained look that accompanied the words. That last word was familiar – he heard it many times around the palace, usually directed at the slaves and the soldiers. Fast, Gray remembered. With speed.

No, he was going to do this slowly!

The prince ran his hands over the Dragon's shoulders. The pinkette was tense, his overworked muscles clenched hard. Unhurriedly, Gray pressed the palms of his hands over the pinkette's skin, kneading the hard muscle beneath. At first nothing happened, but as Gray worked, Natsu closed his eyes and his body began to relax. His breathing became more regular.

Gray ran his palms further south, along Salamander's toned back and sides. The pinkette gasped at a particularly tough spot, and Gray bit his lip. It was becoming hard to stay concentrated when his slave was making such delicious noises while looking so vulnerable. Gray's hands – his hands burned where they traced the Dragon's skin. His skin was the colour of the desert sand – baked brown, while Gray's was nearly white. His tanned skin looked so much more kissable. And with how the Dragon's head was rolled to the side, all Gray had to do was lean forward a little and his lips were in line with Natsu's neck…

A soft rumbling sound interrupted Gray's intense stare at Natsu's neck. He realised he had actually leaned forward. His lips ghosted Natsu's collarbone. The pinkette smelled of the desert sand, heat and ash. The prince pulled back, his face hot like it was on fire.

He wasn't sure where that sound came from, until he realised it came from Natsu himself.

"Hey, Natsu?" Gray asked, pausing his ministrations. The dragon slayer didn't respond. Gray shook his head, smiling. Natsu showed all that resistance and defiance whenever Gray was around, only to fall asleep in his hands. He showed a completely different face, one that wasn't scowling or watching him like a hawk. His face was smooth and relaxed, with no signs of conflict. Gray wished there would come a day when his face would be like that while he was fully awake, or even better, that he might smile. He wondered what Natsu's smile would be like. It was a little hard to imagine because of the bruises. He ran his hands along Natsu's shoulders one last time, savouring the feel.

"Natsu, wake up." Gray shook him gently. "You'll have a cramped neck if you sleep in the chair."

Natsu moved a little and even half-opened his brilliant green eyes, but it was clear that his consciousness wasn't there.

Gray tugged Natsu, trying to get him to stand. "Come on, help me a little."

Natsu groaned and buried his face into the crook of the armchair. "Ostav' me in pokoe, Gajeel. I hochu spat'."

Gray sighed. Now his slave acted like a little kid. He hauled the pinkette up and slung his arm over his shoulder. Natsu winced and clutched at his mid-section. Gray slowly stepped forward. The Dragon leader staggered and would have face planted into the floor if Gray hadn't supported most of his weight.

It seemed that Natsu had just enough energy to reach the bed in the princess's room. The Dragon's body gave out when his knees brushed the bed, and he collapsed chest first into it, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Gray huffed and brushed stray hair out of his face while looking at the fallen figure. Carefully he turned pinkette's head to the side so he could breathe, then rolled him onto his back. A few wounds had opened during Natsu's nosedive, which Gray wiped away with a wet cloth. Finally, he dragged the man's feet onto the bed as well.

_I'm glad he's all right_, Gray thought.

Then, the prince decided it was weird to keep watching his slave sleep, so he walked to his bedroom and checked the sundial – one hour until the audience with Fleetfoot Tribe. He wouldn't have minded taking a nap of his own – he hardly slept last night, and his arms felt tired from sparring. Instead he pulled out a chair and cracked open the Tribal book.

He couldn't afford to sleep now, not while Mirajane and the girls depended on him. One wrong move, and he could inadvertently make their lives a living hell.

The real battle lay after the audience.

xxxxx

Gray leaned against his father's throne, standing as far away from him as he could get away with. The king lounged on the throne-bed, one arm hooked around scad-dressed concubine Angel. The white-haired concubine wore a shimmering blue veil over her breasts and shoulders, leaving nothing to the imagination. At least her lower parts were covered by a pair of low rise pants. She plastered herself over the king like a wet towel, muttering things into his ear that made the king chuckle once in a while.

The prince fought hard to keep the anger and disgust off his face. His mother, Queen Ur, was supposed to sit next to the king, not Angel! The concubine looked at him, her black eyes sparkling with superiority, a malicious little smile on her lips. She was the only concubine that sought his father's attentions, and was the king's favourite as the result. Any other concubine would have been easier to tolerate, but Angel ensured she wasn't forgotten. Angel whispered something into the king's ear again, who glanced at Gray and chuckled. Gray ground his teeth, and focused his attention back at the bickering merchants that demanded the king's audience over a chicken dispute.

The Fleetfoot tribe was the first on the agenda, which was over four hours ago. The tribe gifted the king a blue-furred rabbit. Such oddities occurred in the desert from time to time, and were extremely valuable. The king was so pleased that he forgave them for missing the audience the previous day, and had assigned the tribe's human tribute – a thirteen year old boy – to the kennels to look specifically after the rabbit. It appeared to be the greatest arrangement, as the king spared no expense to ensure the rabbit lived, and the boy and his supervisor would get a lot of freedom. However, the king's favour was a fickle thing. If the rabbit died – boy's fault or not – the punishment would make seasoned soldiers scream.

"Where is your pretty slave, Gray?" The king said. Angel watched him from her perch above the king's ear, eyes narrowed and a smile that dripped poison.

"Recovering in my quarters after he was sent to a _noon_ watermill shift." Gray couldn't keep the disdain from his voice.

Angel whispered something again. The king waved a hand at him in dismissal. "Hardly matters. Bring him here next time." The king leaned back into Angel's arms.

Gray folded his hands into fists. He couldn't fathom why the king wanted to see Natsu. He didn't like it. "That would be easier if he was assigned to a morning or evening shift."

The king's tone hardened. "You will bring him here regardless of his shift."

The raven folded his arms over his chest.

"Understood?"

Gray looked away.

"Understood?" The king's voice turned threatening.

"Yes, father," Gray said through gritted teeth.

"And thus, Your Majesty, I demand this man build a higher wall so that his chickens don't fly over into my peacock garden and ruin another important deal!" The taller of the two merchants yelled.

The king sighed, a vein throbbing on his forehead. Alastair personally oversaw all property disputes, which sometimes included petty disputes like this one. The disputees paid a price for the counsel, of course. Gray would have left the audience long ago after Fleetfoot tribe's turn, but he needed to catch the king after the audience to carry out his plan.

"Erect a fence to keep the chickens and the peacocks in their respective gardens. Split evenly the expense."

"But, Your Majesty—" The shorter merchant began.

"You enjoyed the view of his peacocks long enough. Now pay up for the privilege like the others."

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" The other merchant beamed.

"Pay four chickens and one peacock to the crown treasurer in the next three days. Dismissed." The king waved the merchants off.

The merchants bowed, thanking the king, one bitterly while the other sung praises.

Alastair rose from the throne. "The audience is over." The assembled nobles bowed and began to disperse.

_It's time._

Gray sprung from his spot, heart hammering furiously in his chest.

"Your Majesty, may I—" he stopped when he noticed a couple of nobles came over. _Damn!_

"What is it?" the king asked.

The prince bit the inside of his cheek. "You first." He motioned to the nobles. The two bowed and launched into their sorry tale. The raven-haired teen shifted from foot to foot as they kept talking. He glanced at the clock. _Hurry up! Stop talking, damn it! _Mirajane's girls could only distract for so long.

Gray noticed Lyon, who stood immobile by the king's left all this time. He'd forgotten about him until he rolled his shoulder slightly as if in a stretch. 'What are you doing?' the gesture meant. Lyon's expression never betrayed that he looked anywhere but at the possible dangers. This was the silent system they developed to communicate behind their father's back.

The raven gave a slight nod. 'I have a plan.'

Lyon raised his spear slightly then rested it on the floor again. 'Will there be a fight?'

Gray hadn't thought about that, and unconsciously touched his chin in the 'I don't know' position. He turned his head to the side a little. 'I don't think so.'

Finally the nobles bowed and the king stepped out to follow. "Your Majesty, may I please have a moment of your time?" Gray blocked the king's path. Alastair gave him a look like one might regard a pesky fly.

The king grunted. "What is it, Gray? It better be important."

The prince schooled his face into a neutral expression. Part of him wanted to abandon the plan right then. What if the king took the wrong side? What if he punished the innocent people instead? Gray put his hands behind his back, so he wouldn't fiddle with them. He tried to squash the nervousness out of his voice.

"Words are inadequate to describe what I have discovered." Somehow his voice sounded stronger than he felt. "Your Majesty must see it for yourself. It won't take more than ten minutes." Gray turned to leave. "Follow me."

The king didn't immediately follow, and Gray's heart clenched tight. Yet he didn't stop his strides or looked back. He was gambling here – his plan was to give Alastair no time to think and hence no time to say no, because Gray knew the king _would_ say no to such request.

"Take her to the pleasure quarters," the king said.

Gray reached the door and chanced a look behind him. He caught Angel looking at the king with disappointment. Then her stare shifted to him and her eyes hardened, and she plastered a smile so fake it was unsettling. The prince dwelled on it for a whole two seconds until the king walked his way. Gray wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts – which he thankfully still wore. Get the king's attention – check.

"This way." Gray set a fast pace, which the king matched easily, being slightly taller than the prince. Ever the king's shadow, Lyon followed. His face was carefully blank, but Gray knew his brother was worried.

Gray wiped the sweat off his forehead. He was extremely aware of who walked at his side. It felt like his father took the space of two men rather than one. His presence made it hard to breathe.

They heard shouting as they neared the kitchens. "You incompetent wench!" The voice of Vidaldus Taka filled the corridor. "You did it again!" The sound of a harsh slap resonated in the air, followed by a pained shriek and the clutter of metal. "That should teach you! If you still blotch them when I come back tomorrow, I'll beat that habit out of you! Idiots, the whole lot of you!" The head cook limped into the corridor. "Mirajane, any mistakes are on your head! And if I catch you talking— Oh! Your Majesties!" The man staggered back and fell on his ass. He winced, clutching at his injuries. Then he quickly scrambled into a bow. "I didn't see you! F-forgive me."

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**What will happen to Vidaldus? How will the king react? Find out next chapter! :D Please review and favourite!**

**As usual, I invite you to read Peanut61654's story titled "The Slave". It has a similar premise as this story, but much faster paced and very awesome in its own way. New chapter has just come out today! xD**

**www. fanfiction s/9853377/1/The-Slave (remove spaces as you type it in)**

**Also, Peanut61654 drew fanart of King Alastair and Angel lounging on the throne! Thank you Peanut! The link is on my profile :D**

**Thank you to AsDarknessSpreads, gratsulover117, Mayuko-chan, Llaelien, Peanut61654, Yua-chan and blackagenda for your wonderful reviews of the previous chapter! Your comments made me very happy and motivated me to write at a time when my circumstances made it nearly impossible to do so.**

**I'm already working on the next chapter. Your reviews motivate me to write quicker *hint hint* Thanks for reading and reviewing! :D**


	5. Lessons II

**Hi everyone! A faster update this time! Yay! *cheers***

**Thank you Peanut61654 for your help and enthusiasm!**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Lessons II**

Gray studied Vidaldus's beat-up appearance. His left eye was black and swollen shut. The left side of his face was torn as if his face was dragged across a rough wall. His jaw and cheeks had distinct fingertip bruises as if someone grabbed his face with enormous force. His lips were split and crusted with dried blood. His abdomen and part of his chest were bandaged in linen. Two of his fingers were splinted against a wooden board. His movements were stiff and he walked with a limp.

Gray raised his chin up. Natsu did a good job. The man deserved it.

The king grunted in acknowledgement. "I don't have all day."

Gray ignored the comment. "Vidaldus, are you done with your shift?"

The man's stare flitted between the king and him. "Yes, Your Royal Highness, Your Majesty."

"Are you on your way home?" Gray asked.

He looked uneasy. "Yes, Your Royal Highness… Is there something special Your Majesties want for dinner?"

Gray faced his father. "I request this man searched."

Vidaldus's eyes widened. The king smirked.

"And why would I search a trusted cook?" The king stuck out his chest and crossed his arms.

Gray chose his words carefully. "This man that you trust, that you appointed to oversee our meals and supplies, has become a greedy thief. I only found out recently, but I believe his thievery has been going on for some time – behind your back."

The king's lips curled and his eyes narrowed. "Search him."

Gray suppressed a smile. Step 2 – check.

Lyon grabbed the cook. "No, Your Majesty, please!"

Lyon patted the man's clothes, pausing on the light blue sash that kept the man's pants up. He ripped a hole in the sash, and three _granata_ fruits fell into his hand.

Vidaldus's face turned white.

The prince didn't say anything, as the evidence spoke for itself. He knew the man was stealing the _granata_ fruit for over a year. He tolerated it because it was the lesser of all possible evils. It was a shame that the cook developed a taste for hitting slaves. He was a good chef, and he'd miss his meals. However, he'd rather eat trash than let his friends live in fear.

"Vadaldus, you have ten seconds to explain."

The cook fell to his knees, his head touching the floor. "Have mercy, Your Majesty! I loathe to lose your trust. The fruit is not for me – it's for my sickly wife. The doctor said she must eat three _granata_ fruits a week or she and our unborn child will die in labour. I spend all my pay on the fruit, but it's not enough. Had your majesty approved of my pay raise, this would never had happened. I hate myself for what I did, but I had no choice! Imagine if Queen Ur could fall pregnant again and deliver with the help of a mere fruit—"

"Enough!" The king stomped his foot loudly. "Your dishonesty disgusts me. No one steals from me and gets away with it! Let this be a lesson to you all." The king motioned to the slaves who gathered in the corridor and peered from the door. "You, slave girl, how long has this been going on?"

Mirajane paled and looked down, silent.

"Speak up, girl! He won't be in the kitchen to punish you."

Gray let a sigh of relief. Step 3 – check. No more violence in the kitchen. Plan complete.

"Over six months," Mirajane whispered.

The king snarled, baring his canine teeth. He reminded Gray of a vicious dog.

Vidaldus staggered backwards, terror plain on his face. Lyon held the man from escaping. "Have mercy! I'll never do it again. Please!" He looked from the king to Gray. "Please!"

"I'm disappointed in you, Vidaldus." The king tsk-ed. "Lyon, hold out his right arm."

The king walked towards the cook.

"What are you doing?" Gray said, alarmed.

Vidaldus violently struggled to break free. Lyon took the man down and stepped on his back to keep him still, holding out the man's arm against the floor.

"Your Majesty! Please! Have mercy! I beg you! I'll do anything! I'll never touch anything ever again! Please spare me!" Vidaldus yelled in hysterics, buckling against the floor.

Lyon's face took a green tinge and he looked away.

With horror, Gray realised his father's plan. "Father, wait!" He grabbed the king's shoulder.

"Ice Make, sword!" The king said mid-swing.

Blood splashed on Lyon's clothes.

The cook's arm rolled on the floor.

Vidaldus screamed, eyes bulging out of his sockets. He stared at his severed limb. Blood pooled on the white tiles.

The slaves screamed, running back into the kitchen or hiding behind columns in the corridor. Only years of battle school kept Gray from doing the same. Vidaldus grabbed his bloody stump, blood seeping through his fingers. Lyon got up, the hand holding his spear smudged red.

"What the hell?" Gray yelled, tightening his grip on the king's shoulder. "You were supposed to punish him, not cut off his arm! He'll never cook again!"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, _boy_." The king flicked the blood off the sword. Gray swallowed and released his hold. "Be grateful I didn't cut off your head, Vidaldus. You have two hours to pack your things and get the hell out of my city. Take him out of my sight."

Two guards that had come at the screams picked up the shaking man and dragged him and his missing arm away.

"Fukuro, you're the new head cook. Do not fail me."

The owl-headed chef's assistant bowed from within the kitchen door. "H-hoot!" He stuttered.

"You, clean up the mess." The king pointed to one of the hiding slaves. "Is this all you wanted to show me?" The king said irritably, dissolving the sword.

The prince folded his hands into fists. "What do you mean, is that all? You chopped off a man's hand like it was nothing! For stealing some damn fruit!" The said fruit lay on the floor against a wall.

Gray wanted to stomp on it.

"I spared his life. He should be grateful." The king turned to leave.

"You're sick!" Gray yelled after him.

The king suddenly turned around and grabbed Gray's chin, making the prince wince. "Listen to me, boy. He got off easy. He should thank you for that." Gray tried to jerk away but the man's grip was too strong. He was forced to stare into the king's icy blue eyes. "If I had found out about it myself, he'd have to be carried out in a bucket. I hope you learned something today." He turned to the crowd. "Let this be a lesson to all of you." He jerked Gray's chin to the side and walked past. The teen rubbed his stinging jaw and glared holes into the king's back.

Lyon glanced at him as he and the king turned a corner. For the first time in a long time, Gray couldn't read his expression.

The raven grabbed the wall for support and rested his head on it. He smashed his fist against it six times, drawing blood, but it didn't make him feel better. He slid down to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. The cook's screams echoed in his mind.

Mirajane sat next to him.

"Don't look at me like that," Gray said before she said anything. "I messed up."

"His wife's name is Rydia and she lives in the potter's district." Mirajane said. "I just wanted to tell you that."

Gray buried his face in his knees and wished that today had never happened.

Mirajane sat with him for a while, meanwhile dark thoughts churned in Gray's mind. Eventually she got up, and he watched her bruised wrists swing back and forth as she left. Was it worth it? All he had wanted was to help them. "Why did it have to turn out like this?" He punched the floor, watching his knuckles bleed.

Two slaves looked up at him from moping the floor. Their eyes showed no compassion or sadness, only fear.

"Damn him," Gray whispered. Alastair's message clearly reached through. The slaves efficiently cleaned up the blood, their postures submissive. The area became spotless. However, for Gray, the red puddle would always be there, reminding him of his mistake.

Gray's eyes lingered on the now empty spot, and suddenly it felt like pieces of a puzzle had clicked together in his head. He got a sharp understanding of his father's nature. First, Alastair was cruel beyond reason. Second, his punishment always grossly exceeded the crime. And third, the king was more irrational than he thought.

He shall never underestimate his father again.

The last revelation made him rise off the floor. He couldn't sit there while someone was still in danger. He sprinted through the corridor towards his rooms. He couldn't learn Tribal overnight, but he could make a good start on it - he had heard it his whole life! He was certain there would be hell to pay if Alastair found out he skipped. Yet it wasn't himself that he worried about. No, Alastair, in his own twisted logic, cared about Fairy Tail enough to not maim his only heir.

Erza, on the other hand, wasn't so immune.

But what did he care about Erza?

Gray slowed his running to a walk. Come to think of it, he hardly knew her. She was stoic, quick to threaten and had the subtlety of a war drum. The only things she's done was impose her back-breaking study schedules on him and boss him around. Admittedly he learned more in the last two years she's been his head teacher than he had in the seven years previous, but that was just her job. He realised he knew remarkably little about her. He had never seen her without armour. What did she do in her off-duty hours other than the two times he saw her polish her armour? He made a mental note to ask Lyon later today. His brother, sharing a near identical job, probably knew more about her than he did. Her biggest fault by far was that she blindly followed whatever Alastair said...

_Lyon also follows what the king says_, Gray's mind countered.

The image of Vidaldus, screaming and grasping at his bleeding stump, paralysed Gray into a standstill. Then, unbidden, Erza was the one screaming and crying at the king's feet. Gray's breath hitched and his chest tightened. He didn't like Erza much but she didn't deserve that because of his negligence! She was a part of Fairy Tail now, and it was his duty to protect everyone in it. Even if it meant going against his own father.

He sprinted with renewed energy.

"I won't make the same mistake twice!"

xxxxx

Natsu was still sleeping on the princess's bed when Gray reached his quarters. "Hey, wake up..." The prince said quietly. It was unhealthy to sleep so much in the day. However, seeing the slave's relaxed and peaceful face, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and his injuries, changed Gray's mind. The dragon slayer would be very sore when he woke up - he'd hate to cut his blissful unawareness short. In a way, Gray was a little jealous - he didn't have a restful sleep in... he couldn't remember the last time.

Gray realised he was staring. He looked away, and for some reason looking away felt like he was missing something vital. All his senses screamed at him to look back at the slave. Not one to ignore his instincts in the presence of potential danger, Gray complied. Salamander was still sleeping... and his face was very nice to look at. His facial features were striking; his skin tanned brown and smooth. His frame was strong and battle hardened - Gray wanted to see how he looked when fully healed. His reflexes were still very sharp despite the damage. Just how dexterous would he be when in top shape? _That would be one amazing battle when we fight. _

The thought filled Gray with cheer. The palace knights always let him win when they fought, afraid to actually hurt him. He felt like he hadn't improved in ages. Lyon's moves became predictable after so many fights. Juvia was a great fighter but she always passed out just as it was starting to get good! He dreamed of fighting Ur again - she had totally obliterated him and Lyon when they were kids - but that's what she was: a dream. Thanks to Alastair, he hadn't seen her in what felt like years.

But Natsu... Natsu was here, strong, unpredictable, and with no desire to hold back. He was very proud, that much was clear. A leader. Alastair was proud and a leader as well, yet Natsu seemed so much more. He had stuck out his neck for Mirajane, a stranger he's met who wasn't part of his tribe. It didn't make sense. A lot about Natsu didn't make sense, like his fearlessness. He attacked Phantom Lord despite not having magic power. That was very stupid... and very brave.

And then he had another kind of strength that wasn't visible. He didn't break after what Phantom Lord did to his tribe and to him. How could he look so boldly into Alastair's eyes and not flinch? How didn't he succumb to the fear like the others?

How could he be so strong despite the limitations? An intense desire to touch Natsu ran through Gray's veins, a desire he couldn't resist. He needed to confirm that Natsu was real.

Salamander's skin was scorching hot to touch. Or maybe it felt like that because Gray's hands were icy. He ran his fingers along the length of Natsu's arm. A hum of appreciation escaped his throat. It felt so good...

The prince withdrew like he was burned when he realised what he was doing.

_This is wrong! _Gray thought, backing away from the bed. _He's injured and he hates me! I'm lucky he didn't wake up! _His gaze stayed on the slave. _I shouldn't even be having these thoughts. He doesn't have free will! Just thinking about him in that way is inhumane and wrong! He's only been here a day, for heaven's sake!_

_That's it, _his mind continued, _He's just interesting because he's new. Soon the novelty will wear off and he'd be just another slave._

He felt more confident with that reasoning. Phew. He'd almost worked himself into a frenzy over nothing. Cautiously, so he wouldn't wake up the slave, he tiptoed out of the room, blood still hammering in his ears.

Erza's fate was more important right now.

xxxxxx

The Tribal helped to distract him from the cruelty he witnessed earlier. Eager to forget everything, he made good progress. The language was coming back to him, or at least his intuition for it - he could 'guess' the correct meaning of most words he didn't know. It was a weird feeling, like he could sense what the author wanted to say without understanding each individual word. However when he looked at any one word for too long, the unwanted images of what his father had done flooded his mind.

It was one such time. "Damn it," Gray whispered. He went to the bathroom splashed some water into his face. His own tired expression stared back at him from the mirror. "Come on, this is nothing new."

_It's just not usually so in your face_, his mind supplied. He wiped his face and turned back to the low table he set up as his study area.

And promptly stopped. Natsu was in the doorway, watching him with those mysterious green eyes.

Gray quickly masked any signs of surprise. How long had he been standing there? The slave's stare was a bit too intense.

"How are you feeling?" Gray asked in Tribal, indicating the injured area.

"How do you think I'm feeling?" Natsu said.

Gray didn't like his tone. Or that he was standing in the doorway in a wide stance with his fists clenched. He didn't look stiff from the watermill just yet, probably due to the massage Gray gave him earlier. Of course, the proud leader wouldn't say thanks. Come tomorrow, he'd be in a world of pain. The prince almost wished the pinkette was in pain right then; he'd have one less problem to deal with. Like how to tame the rebellious Dragon leader, whose face had the most hostile expression.

"Step away," Gray said in Tribal, meeting the slave's piercing gaze.

Natsu didn't move. The staring contest seemed to go on for years; Natsu's green versus Gray's black. The prince didn't blink, enduring this battle of wills. The atmosphere was so heavy he could almost grab and twist it. His hands slowly crept into the Ice Make position.

Natsu looked away first.

Gray didn't relax, and supressed his relief at the victory, just in case Salamander might see it as a weakness. The Dragon stepped aside, posture less aggressive, seeming to submit this time. The prince passed cautiously, expecting him to snap again.

The pinkette didn't attack.

But he didn't stop watching him either. It was starting to drive Gray crazy. He never had to be on guard in his own rooms before! Damn it, he should just send him back to the slave quarters. But the rational part of him knew that he couldn't do that. Natsu was his personal slave now and Gray had responsibility over him. Whether he and Natsu wanted to or not.

Vidaldus wasn't the only threat to the slaves. Natsu couldn't fight them all. Not to mention he'd get hurt. Again.

Gray noticed the sundial's shadow from the corner of his eyes. It was nine at night - dinner time. The prince wrote instructions on a piece of paper and handed it out to the slave. "Give this to Mirajane." He hoped his voice didn't betray how happy he was to get rid of him, even for a moment.

Natsu's eyes narrowed. He reached for the note, his fingers brushing the paper, and punched Gray in the stomach.

"Gah!" The prince sagged, all air driven out of his lungs. _How the hell did he manage to-_ Gray raised his guard but Natsu sidestepped into his unprotected side. The Dragon leader leaned in, their faces nearly touching. The smell of ash assaulted Gray's nose. The prince had a split second in which the image of the Natsu's blazing eyes and triumphant smirk burned into his memory before the Tribal leader punched him in the kisser.

The force spun Gray completely around. Disoriented, dizzy and unable to breathe, he crashed to the floor. His heart hammered wildly in his chest, thoughts a mess. He tasted blood in his mouth, and one of his teeth felt loose. But above all-

"That's for earlier," Natsu said. His voice was strangely devoid of emotion. "Touch me in my sleep again and I'll kill you." He picked up the fallen note and left.

* * *

**Natsu strikes back! What will Gray do next? Please review and favorite!**

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